TBP: II The Reckoning, Blood and Marriage
by Vain x Life Poetess
Summary: The Last and awaited part to Treason By Parentage. Henry's alliance with Rome shatters, Anne and Henry love each other but he starts to question his wife and his parents could pay the ultimate price for Henry's wrath. Warnings: Extreme Violence/Sex.
1. The Players

**A/N:** **First chapter of the long awaited sequel:**

**Thanks to ladyredvelvet for your help on who should play Mary, I will choose the latter option, and as for Katherine Howard in TBP :III Princess Anna and me elected somebody who I think fits perfectly in the role as in her physic. Ladyredvelvet you have been a great support too as all of my reviewers who keep me up going!.**

**Thanks to reganx, aestheticnarcissist, lemondropseverus who I hope you will update soon your story of the Queen it is a wonderful story (please read it!), lupinskitten, dvil she may crie, and to reganx again you have been a great help and great support.**

**Remember your reviews keep me up going ...**

**Enjoy**

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**Chapter #1: The Players**

**(1531)**

**January 1st, ****Greenwich Palace.**

_If everything my father has ever taught me has been true; then I would already be dead, for I never truly believed that going against your love gets you somewhere, it all only brings you pain and suffering, like what happened to me and Katherine._

_Seems like yesterday when I was following her trail outside the chapel, she was wearing a yellow and white dress with small roses, she told me it was in the Spanish tradition that if a bride was to marry somebody who was especial, she would wear pink roses to symbolize a pure unadulterated love, free of passion._

_But my marriage with Katherine could hardly be described as free of passion, on the contrary, it was full of passion and adulterous love. _

_After she broke off our engagement to be together and went to marry the sickly Prince Arthur Tudor, I started to look elsewhere for prospects to marry, eventually as always my father found someone and I married Joanne, settled down, forgot about Katherine and had children._

_Eventually as always my past came up to haunt me, and it cost me one wife's life, two babies and the trust of my second youngest daughter, Elizabeth._

_That is another thing I sometimes question myself about, Elizabeth._

_Did I do right to raise that girl with no rules and let her roam free on the wild, while I was teacher her sisters and brother theology and morals? Did I ever do right with that girl at all?_

_"Of course you did, you always did." An inner voice whispers to me._

_I know I did right with Elizabeth, my love for her is the same love I have for all of my children, even for Henry whom I know that deep inside he is a great man, ruler and scholar, and whatever his decision he will see the error of his ways and turn back to the true ways, sooner or later._

_That much faith I have in him and that much I am willing to risk my life and my soul to give to the devil so he can see the error of his ways, because he is my son but most importantly he is my King, my master and my liege._

_I know that my daughter who bears the name of Elizabeth is now lost to me and my family, but my new granddaughter who is not yet an hour old, and was born healthy, has hope and will bring England to its knees with her beauty and smile, I have seen it, in a dream before she was born and know deep in my heart, that my granddaughter is special and holds a special place in my heart._

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**(1532)**

**Richmond Palace, New Restoration Rooms**

The halls of Richmond Palace which were beginning to be out of fashion, had been commissioned to be remodeled on the Queen's orders, not only the walls but also the carpets, the floor and all of the guests rooms. The Queen herself had said that she was to have the best Palace in town for her guests, and England was to make a good impression on all their guests, especially those coming from across the seas, rivals to England like Spain, France and what remained of the Holy Roman Empire on the Netherlands.

Men had been working day and night to get this palace to look as it once had, they barely had time to rest when they were waken up from their slumber by their harsh masters to try and redo the painting all over again. Some were even trying to see a way in which they could get fired

But the Queen was too much of a quick mind to have any of that. Anyone who quit or attempted to get fired on purpose and was caught on his little scheme, was whipped severely with 12 lashes a day or more.

The laziness that had surrounded the men and workers of Richmond calmed down a bit after that.

Every one of the ladies who were following Anne at the moment of her inspection were hesitant to watch their Mistress reprimand more of the workers, contrary to popular belief, Anne was not harsh or cruel to them, but she was rather strict when it came to their laziness on building the new rooms for her palace.

The ladies as always were discussing their silly matters of who workers looked or would look best with their shirts off, Meg thought they were such whores to think such a thing, at least her father had the good decency not to teach her all this talk and give her good sense of keeping her dignity, even in her thoughts. It pained her to no end that she had to hear to all of this nonsense, at least Anne seemed to have heard too and in less than a second she went to her Ladies and reprimanded them.

"What are you saying to the other Madge?" She asked her cousin, Madge Shelton, a plump and young girl whose squeaky voice gave Meg headaches to no end, and of all of the girls in the group she was also the more precocious in her outrageous behavior sneaking with men behind the Queen's and Margaret's (who was now Governess to Princess Elizabeth too) noses. She was also the one who read most of the naughtiest things that could be written down in the English Language.

"Nothing your Majesty." Madge said, suddenly tensing on hearing her cousin, the Queen's strict voice reprimanding her. "I was just stating to the Ladies Madam that some of the men do not look all that bad your Grace."

"Not bad?" Anne repeated. The silly girl of Madge, nodded her head and tried to avoid the Queen's gaze. Anne then turned to Meg, who was quietly looking at the scene as an spectator rather than the enforcer or the punisher like Anne.

Suddenly an idea came to Anne and she spoke to Meg in a high, yet amused voice. "Lady More."

"Yes your grace?" - She asked.

Queen Anne smiled more at the sound of Meg's inquiry. "If I were to tell you that I find that worker, that one over there just by the rocks next to the Chief Instructor." She said pointing her finger to the right of where she was standing to a handsome boy who looked no older than 17, hardly a man. " ... and if I were to say that I find him intriguing and very handsome, even though you know me to be married to our liege King Henry; tell me would you think of me with the same grace as how you serve me Lady Margaret?"

Margaret tensed but knew where Anne was getting to. "No" She said. "With all due respect I would not your Grace, even if you were not married, I would think this behavior not proper of a true Lady of His Majesty and of the Court."

Queen Anne satisfied with her response turned to Madge whose cheeks now seemed like fire, she was swallowed in her own shame as the rest of the Queen's ladies, they had all learned their lesson of what can happen to them if their outrageous behavior continued.

Madge and all of the ladies upon Meg's command to move close to the Queen followed without question, their allegations of which worker was handsome and which not was immediately quieted down after Meg's and the Queen's talk.

The Queen and her ladies after inspecting the rest of the remodeling team, went back to the Queen's quarters that because it was connected next to little Princess Elizabeth's rooms and crib, Meg could easily attend her Mistress and her ward at the same time with no problem at all of being tardy.

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**Richmond Palace, The Queen's Chambers:**

Once they reached the rooms, most of the Ladies went to read or rest sitting on the couches and old chairs while they also talked with other fellow ladies, Meg on the other hand went to her duties to the Queen by undressing her from the heavy jewelery she was wearing.

"Meg." Anne called. Margaret More turned to look at her Mistress. "Do you like your job?"

"Yes Your Majesty." She said in a quiet voice.

Anne Boleyn smiled, remembering the former coward girl who had refused at being offered such privilege and position before, but with time Margaret had become not only a good governess for her and the King's child and heiress, Elizabeth, but also a good company for Anne, one that Anne hardly wanted to go away, but her father on the other hand was not exactly an admirer of Anne and she had to do something quick before the Chancellor could act and do something to tare Margaret from her daughter and from Anne.

"Liar, I know that you still are a little hesitant towards the new ideas Margaret, but with time you will see how right I am to change this Country for its decadent Church, now tell me how is your progress with Elizabeth?"

Meg smiled. "Perfect, she is a sweet child, I still can't believe the King was not all that happy the moment she was brought to this world on January of 1531, how can somebody not be happy with her Mistress? She is a good and should I say rather fuzzy young girl, but I enjoy taking care of her." She said making the Queen smiled and ponder back to the moment when she had first brought a child into this world, who was fortunate enough to live, but the King disappointed at not having a boy like he wished, felt betrayed and with a sorrowful voice he had said to Anne._ "If we can have a healthy daughter, then we can have a healthy son."_

_'Why did Henry have to act like that? Does he not know that a good and healthy girl is better than no child at all? Or it could have been worse and I could have delivered a dead baby like all of Isabella's dead children, at least I delivered one worthy enough to be his heir, more than that masker Mary who I am still sure is not his child!'_

Anne's head spiraled with more questions and doubts of why Henry had to throw such silly tantrums back on that fateful day of their daughter's first birthday, but she knew why inside, luckily enough for her, Henry being always a changeable man who could go from a hot temper to a cold temper; had changed for the next day and he ordered a big celebration for his and Anne's child,

Even Mary who had been Princess Mary of Wales at the time, had been reduced to Princess Mary and Duchess only of York, as Elizabeth had been proclaimed Princess of Wales in her place, up until now there were two Princesses on the Palace, one who maintained the title only in name, but her status had been diminished to Princess and Duchess, and the other, the King's youngest daughter who was Anne's child, and was becoming more and more the heir apparent to the throne as she was now the Official Princess of Wales and not Mary.

Lady Margaret More who at the time did not agree with Anne like her father for doing this, had been calmed down after Elizabeth had been born. She fell in love the moment she held the little baby in her arms, Anne herself had not seen before such love radiating from the girl, not even the love she had for her father could beat the love and affection she had for Elizabeth, who was in truth her niece.

The Chief Lady-In-Waiting after being dispatched to serve the Queen and look after her, had felt quite saddened by being kept apart from Elizabeth, and Anne seing the pain in the young woman's eyes after being separated from her niece, she petitioned Henry to turn Margaret into the official Governess for their daughter, Henry wanting to be Anne's good side after hurting Anne agreed and turned Margaret into the Official Governess for Princess Elizabeth weeks after her baptism.

Margaret More couldn't be any happier, she often told herself that the only reason why she was away from her father all this long was because of Elizabeth, there was really no other reason, but even if both Anne the Queen and her Chief Lady in Waiting could give different reasons why they were still working together, the truth was that they both had taken a liking into each other.

--

**Richmond Palace**

**Queen's Quarters/ Annex: Princess of Wales Royal Quarters**

Lady Shelton who had been taking care of Elizabeth while the Chief of the Ladies in Waiting of Her Majesty, who was also the Official Governess for the Princess, returned from her duties.

The Royal caretaker of the child was doing her job and the King had been gracious enough to grant her a pension by the time she retired to move to any Castle of her choosing.

Of course Lady Shelton had been more than grateful, and assured the King that if he was to have more children -girl or boy- she would dedicate the other half of her life to taking care of his _'little blessings'_.

In reality, Lady Shelton thought Elizabeth was such a boring child. And a nuisance to all those who took care of her, all except the Lady Governess Margaret More, her Official care taker.

But of course, that was natural for the Lady Margaret More. She was after all the girl's aunt, and even if Lady Shelton was jealous for the Lady Margaret receiving more benefits, she could hardly complain against that puny girl, even if she knew it was in her right to take the advantage and tell the enemies of the King of the true nature of the relationship the More Family shared with the Princess and with her King.

Somethings, Lady Shelton had found in her many years of experience, were best left undiscovered, besides if the enemies of the King or other Christian Kingdoms knew the truth behind all this scam, then her job as caretaker would be finished and her incomes no longer received and that is something she could not allow, above all things.

She watched the door of the Princess' room being opened and saw Lady Margaret enter, with a swift bow to greet Lady Shelton she also dismissed the woman.

Margaret had never liked Shelton as a care taker for Elizabeth, in truth her niece's health and safety was something Margaret took very seriously and she suspected the only reason why Lady Shelton was here was to win favor from the King or the Queen and then retire into a nice mansion and never have to worry about taking care of another kid in her life, Margaret truly despised that such woman could pretend love in front of a child she did not love or really cared for.

She grabbed Elizabeth carefully and shushed her cries, the girl had been crying and Margaret guessed it was because the old lady who was taking care of her had not sung or said any nice words to her, she -her aunt- sang a song to her and almost immediately the girl started to smile and laugh at the sight of her aunt's face.

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**A/N**

_Here it is the first chapter and believe me next, will be full of complete intrigue, another thing I want to thank ladyredvelvet for giving me good advice on who to be Mary Tudor when she become 30, Carolina Vera Squella will be her when she reaches her thirties and beyond, I will age her more as she suffers and her rage deteriorates her physic. _

_So as you can see Elizabeth is already born, she was born on January 1st 1531, so she is considered a true blessing and a new year baby, and while Henry was mad she was not the boy he desired he is still happy for she was born on a day of celebration, so that must mean she is true blessing and a gift to reign on England, and yest Margaret has loved her niece very much, she can't barely stay away from Elizabeth, and considering her cute figure in the Tudors, who can't?_


	2. Intrigue and Henry's Dilema

**A/N: **

**Second Chapter of the Sequel, I want to reach at least 50 reviews or more, remember your reviewers as much as it sounds cliche keep me up going!**

**Thanks to aesthetic narcissist and to all.**

**New Character introduced here, will become vital for future chapter and for the saga, hope you like her .**

**R/R**

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**Chapter #2: Intrigue and Henry's Dilema**

_"The world itself is the will to power - and nothing else! And you yourself are the will to power - and nothing else!"_ - Oskar Schindler

**(1532)**

**Greenwich Palace** .

The people around the Palace were gossiping in hushed whispers about the new pregnancy of their Queen. Two years ago these people had celebrated in full honors the coming of their new Goddess, their new savior. But now, they remained nothing more than opportunist seeking advancement and one piece of the cake, they all hoped that the Queen would not deliver another girl and if she did some even cursed that she would die before seeing the light of the day.

Needless to say, they had all been rather disappointed after their 'Goddess Queen' had delivered a healthy baby girl, shattering the dreams of many who longed to see England's borders sage once again.

Everybody in the room still recalled the horrendous battles that had take a toll on the English soil, but most importantly its people. The War of the Roses and the Battle of Flodden was still fresh on everyones mind, making the situation for Anne much more dangerous.

--

**Elizabeth's Rooms/ Greenwish Palace:**

Meg sighed as she went through many of her little niece's toys.

They were all dirty and not taken care of as she hoped they would, she blamed that horrid lady caretaker, Lady Shelton whom Margaret often wondered what had compelled her half-brother to ever hire that Lady for the care of his child and heir.

Meg sighed once again not wanting to cause herself another headache, it wasn't until she was fully out of her thoughts thanks to one of Elizabeth's tantrums. They had become more and more frequent each time the girl was not Meg's arms, she couldn't really blame her, the girl just wanted some maternal love.

As much as Anne professed to love Elizabeth, she was hardly ever there, she was always somewhere else remodeling or doing some charity event to attract the poor to the _'new'_ religion, that she hardly had time to fully dedicate herself to the attention of her daughter.

Margaret was always the one to take charge of the little Princess when nobody was there, and she could hardly trust the other caretaker to do a good job with the baby's safety.

Much of the past years that Meg had spent on this _'glamorous' _life had been because of that little girl, her niece whom had won her heart many times when Meg felt lonely and sad over the loss of her husband, William.

Sometimes it seemed like the girl had some sort of _sight _or _inner eye_ to see what other people were feeling.

Whenever Margaret visited the girl and carried on her arms, she would always smile to her elder aunt and almost in an instant Meg's spirits would fly up in joy.

--

**1532, ****August 24th**

**Chelsea State, More Household.**

Thomas More was finishing his last letters to be delivered to his daughter, the messenger from the Royal Palace of Greenwich had been waiting more than an hour for the Chancellor to finish his last writing to his daughter.

Normally he was a man who did not want to make people wait, but on this occasion he didn't care.

His daughter was one of the things he cared the most in these past few days, and the information he was about to deliver to her was of the utmost importance too. There it contained explicit information to Margaret that two months from now he will not only renounce to his position as High Chancellor, but also give up some of his states that came up as a _'gift',_in all truth he did not want to alarm Margaret but he felt that it was best she knew of what he planned to do than to be told later by her ruthless half brother, the King.

"You ready Sir Thomas?" A soft voice said behind him.

He turned around and saw the same messenger, but with one change. **He,** the _messenger_ was a girl! This was something he wasn't expecting.

Thomas could barely find his voice until he heard the girl clear her throat. "Sorry it is just ... you ... well ... you took me by surprise Madam. Who are you?"

She gave him a devious smile. "I avm Katia Von Tassel, from Germany. A vriend of the Royal painter Hans Holbein Sir Thomas. Yourv daughter brought me here because she truvsts in no one else but me." She said in a high german accent.

Thomas smiled to her and gave her the letter.

"Please be sure no one else sees it, contains vital information."

"Do not worry Sir Thomas, I will take car' ov id wid my life ifv necessary Sir." She said again showing her heavy accent. He smiled and gave her a polite thank you before she returned downstairs where a carriage was waiting for her.

He sighed and silently thought about that silly messenger his daughter had befriended. In all these years Margaret never ceased to amaze him.

--

**1532, August 26th**

**Greenwich Palace/ King's Rooms.**

King Henry who was one of the most envied Princes of all Christendom now stood pacing uncomfortably in his quarter.

This was not fair. _'Why?' _Why did God had to punish him? First with Isabella, then with his stubborn mother ... and now with Anne, his present wife who bore him a daughter!

_'Am I never to have a son God? Never?!' _No answer was received by his mental tantrums. _'Answer me God!' ... 'I am the KING OF ENGLAND!'_

He yelled mentally to God but again, the All-Mighty who was sitting in complete tranquility on Heaven did not bother to come down from his hiding place and listen to him.

Sometimes he felt like he had absolutely no control of the situation.

He always felt as if some other forces ... or people were the ones who were really in control of his Kingdom and him.

_'But that couldn't be possible, could it?'_ No, he shook his head. He was Henry the VIII, Royal Sovereign chosen by the grace of God to rule on the most important Kingdom on Earth, and no people or force could say the contrary.

Nobody was really controlling him, it was all an illusion, he was the one who had been running the whole show from the beginning, it was him and not Anne, Isabella, his mother or _father_, that had made all the important decision on his Kingdoms. All the battles that had been won, like Flodden and one on France had been because of his great Military Tactics, his mother had nothing to do with it.

He sighed as he collapsed on his King Size bed and looked at the Silver Crucifix that had been given to him on Christmas. He remembered that Thomas More, his real _father_ had given it to him before he retired to his home on Chelsea to spend time with his wife.

Henry wondered if Thomas was still loyal to Henry, and if he would be loyal in the end when he decided to launch the reform and all of his new laws on full throttle against the corruption and hypocrisy of the Papacy.

Would his father, the man he admired and gave half his soul too when he was a boy, be with him in his moment of need? Would he support his son when he needed him the most?

**Or** ... would he side with the corrupt Church and his ... **mother** and leave him, Henry all alone and abandoned?

--

**1532, August 26th**

**Greenwich Palace Hallway**

The crowds of the Palace were once again whispering among themselves in hushed voices as they saw their Queen pass, she looked happier than before and this could only mean one thing; she was pregnant.

Surely this time, some who called the woman Harlot for wanting to move Katherine, their Princess and former Regent away from the Palace, looked at the woman with full contempt and the women who wanted to get close to the King looked at her with jealous eyes.

Their dreams of destroying her and her child Elizabeth, now seemed futile, she was becoming more and more powerful, and now that without a doubt she was carrying the future Prince of England in her womb, a coup to dethrone her would be futile. Her position was now secure.

**TBC ...**

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**A/N:**

**There you go second chapter, hope you like it. :d**

**Peace and tomorrow a steamy chapter, but will contain some gore, and scenes of a sexual nature, so be warned.**


	3. Incoming Revolution

**A/N: **

I hope you like this chapter and special thanks to all my reviewers but especially **aesthetic narcissist, reganx, ladyredvelvet** and **lemondropseverus** who I personally recommend their stories too,they are good besides mine, read **_perks of being a monarch_, _Trojan horse_** from stargate fandom crossover with 4400, and _**savage queen**_ and _**triad dragons**_, and last but not least the _**"Queen"**_ with an interesting character like ladyredvelvet's Rosa in savage queen, Katherine character is one to blow you away, each of the stories are from said authors respectively.

On another note, I chose this quotation below the title of the Chapter because JFK and RFK as well as other revolutionary figures of the 60's an era of turbulent change and ideals, I admire them and respect them hugely as they gave literally their lives so we can live by their ideals and to make change, I consider that period one of renaissance like that of the original renaissance on England and Europe.

**Warning: Adult themes, some Incest, and scenes of a sexual nature.**

**Anyway, Enjoy!**

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**Chapter #3 Incoming Revolution.**

_"A revolution is coming — a revolution which will be peaceful if we are wise enough; compassionate if we care enough; successful if we are fortunate enough — But a revolution which is coming whether we will it or not. We can affect its character; we cannot alter its inevitability" _- Robert Francis Kennedy. (May 9th, 1966) **Speech at the Senate.**

**--**

**(1532)**

**Hampton Palace, King's Quarters.**

There was a time when for Henry everything else seemed so easy and peaceful, but now, things had changed, and he feared it had not been for the best, but for the worst.

His mother kept being a thorn to his side, he silently considered getting rid of her, but that nagging feeling in his heart that still held some love for that woman, kept him from doing so.

Then again, he also thought to Thomas, his … _father_. _Uggh,_ again it felt horrible and disgusting to think of that _'moral'_ man **that** way. He was supposed to represent everything that was good and pure in the world and still he slept with his mother and gave Henry half brothers, who as of yet hadn't been a thorn at his side for too long until his _sweet_ half sister Margaret had to show her face on the Palace and become one of Anne's closest friends, and Lady caretaker to his daughter.

It was frustrating that he had no control over what happened in his own country; but it was more frustrating that he had no control over what happened in his own Household! He was the King for Heaven's sake, not some silly beggar waiting for the men and women to yield on his will. He was supposed to act, not to ask.

'_But that is what you are doing' 'You are letting them delay you from what you really desire … look at Thomas, he is getting away by getting custody of your bastard Mary, and you are not doing anything to stop him, you are letting him get ahead you Henry.'_

He reasoned with his head that this was not true, all that his … father or Thomas wanted was to tend to Mary because he cared for her, not because there was any conspiracy behind his actions to dethrone Henry and put his _grandchild_ on the throne.

'_How do you know that?'_ His mind screamed. _'For all you know he could be planning your doom, he already defied you once when you were on Calais with the French King; what makes you think he won't do it again?'_

As much as he tried to argue against it, he knew his conscience was right, Thomas was planning something against him and he was going to find out exactly what.

* * *

**(1532)**

**December 4th**

**Greenwich Palace**

One of the King's servants called one of the Queen's new ladies in waiting to follow him, she was of short height, short and dirty blond hair, and to tell the truth the servant who preferred boys over girls, saw nothing especial of the girl that could appeal the King to call her to his bedroom.

But then again it was not his business to question what and what not the King wanted for himself. He whispered to the girl in an annoyed voice to hurry, he didn't want the Queen or one of her crazy spies to find out that he had sent somebody to take another lady to his bedroom.

Just last week the Queen had almost slapped him senseless when she found one of her ladies being taken by him on the King's orders. Honestly he didn't want to see that awful face of that thin-like Queen ever again; her cat-like blue eyes sent shivers through his spine.

He sighed as he saw the puny and short little woman trying to hurry through the difficulty of wearing those high heel shoes, another reason that it made him confident that he would never look at the female sex in the way the King looked at women.

"Are we there yet" The girl said from behind following the King's servant.

She was doing her best to follow the servant whom in all truth, she thought of him a disgrace to the King's service, but again she did not expect her Majesty to be any wise when it came to pick the people who did his service.

They soon reached the chamber of the King, which the servant was gracious enough in her opinion to open, Elizabeth nodded to the man gave him a small black pouch containing golden coins. She silently said thank-you and the man-servant left quickly after he closed the chamber doors.

She laughed as she saw the chamber, truth to be told she never imagined she would reach this far into the King's bedroom or even be close to him as the Queen herself.

But she had more than accomplished his trust for her, if all went well she could very well become his official Mistress or even better the bearer of his child, she knew her father well enough to know that he would have her head on a silver platter to that awful sister of hers, Margaret for betraying her family and morals, but it was time they accepted what she was and what she was capable of doing when she felt stabbed in the back by her own family.

She kept strolling trough the rooms, looking at the Portraits of the King's supposed _Father_, next to that was a Portrait of his mother, the spine in his side that ceased to leave him alone, also the other spine at his side was her own father, Thomas who had recently renounced as Chancellor and service to the King. It was no surprise, he was probably scared of all the _changes_ that would soon happen by the King's reformer, and he didn't want to be here when it would happen, it was better to be far away ... for him.

The King came opening his bedroom doors to greet his new charm Lady, Elizabeth, she smiled at him and kissed his hand, a gesture which sent both shivers and passionate lust to his body.

"Elizabeth?"

"Yes your Majesty" She said in a naughty and amused voice.

"Come girl or should I say half-sister? You are my half sister but I find you to be an irresistible half-sister, surely you are not really **his** daughter right?" He asked in an equally naughty voice. She smiled holding his hand, leading them both to his bedroom.

--

**Greenwich Place First Floors**

**King's Bedroom**

After many jests and large amounts of hard liquor; Henry her half brother, the same brother who was capable of betraying his own mother and father so he could get and end to his means, was undressing his own sister which whose own nature of being related by blood prohibited him by God's laws to lie with her, but as he saw her naked chest all of God's laws and moral issues were thrown out the window.

She was a true beauty, and Elizabeth who was very well aware of her own half brother looking at her in this way, smiled as she helped him undress the lower half of her body.

When she was fully naked she told Harry to do the same. "I don't know, what if we get punished by God?" He asked bashfully.

She laughed at his question playfully. "No we won't love, besides think of this. Weren't Sarah and Abraham said to be brother, even your father, your surrogate father before he died I heard from my grandfather John that he even said the same thing about them, so if that is true and God blessed them by having their descendant Issac forming an alliance with them, then so do we are blessed for I see no sign of God preventing this. It's God's will" She said.

He nodded and undid his blue vest, then he went to undress the lower half of his body until he was equally naked as her, she laughed once again as she saw his manhood.

"It's big"

"What did you expect?" He said as he stroked her breasts, she moaned with pleasure.

They continued to do other playful sexual acts before it was Harry (as she loved to call him when they were in private) who grabbed her, rather forcefully and pinned her down to the bed, she screamed surprised as he did this.

"Calm down" He said strictly. She grew afraid as she saw this sudden change from his playful character to this hungry beast ready to submit his prey to God knows who acts of sexual desire.

Elizabeth suddenly wanted to scream and yell for Margaret for the first time in her life to help her, but as he entered her, taking her by surprise once more, she screamed with more desire, whatever help she wanted was gone as she was overtaken by a sudden passion and extreme desire to continue the sexual act with Henry, the man.

He penetrated her two times more until her screams could hardly be uttered as she had no words to describe the wonderful sensation she was filling. Each of this thrusts inside of her lasted close to an hour, after his final one she gave one last scream of passion.

He laughed thinking of how much effect his manhood was causing her to turn into this sexual beast; after all this time and all the lovers, by far she was the one whom he had caused the greatest impression. Not being a virgin and still moaning of original pleasure meant something.

She grabbed his neck and lowered his body to hers. Her lips now silently joined with his, and both could taste each of their tongues as her hands moved to make soothing massages on his back, he moaned with pleasure as they moved into each other once more, this time their bodies fully responding to each of their own desires.

They continued their moans, kisses and thrusts until it was Elizabeth who grew exhausted and pushed him out of her womanhood, he didn't grow angry or scream at her for her doings, instead he slumped down next to her on the soft mattress.

He laughed after a few minutes of exhaustion, all of the events that had transpired between both siblings had left them without breath, and they didn't know if it was for the fact that they had just committed an act of incest or it was the realization that they had the best sex in their lives.

Henry turned to look on his sister who had moved under the covers of his bed. She looked exhausted but _satisfied_ completely of their night together, her head turned to look at him in the same manner he did towards her.

"Do you ever think about the future Harry?" She asked in a low voice, as if she was scared that the walls around them could hear them.

Henry shook his head. "No, I don't sister. But I often do think of the present, the only thing regarding the future is to have a son and truth to be told, I do not have one but a bastard son that is useless to my throne and then of course, is your father."

"My father?" She asked silently. He nodded his head and moved close to her to kiss her.

Both their lips felt a sweet sensation as they kissed, it wasn't lust or passion but just a sweet sensation of tenderness between brother and sister.

As he moved his lips apart from hers he spoke once again. "Your father, that is my father removes himself from my service, then he tells me he will pledge himself to his word to never speak again his conscience regarding the _Great Matter, _my intentions to still have my first marriage annulled and have Mary declared as not mine; and yet ... our father Elizabeth, I receive reports that he visits my mother, the Princess Katherine and former Regent to her current stay on Hampton. It sickens me Elizabeth that he could do such things behind my back, and it also sickens me that he has never recognize you with the full respect in which **our sister** Meg has always enjoyed."

"It sickens me and **I** **hate it**" He finally said stroking his lover's cheek affectionately.

She sighed and touched his affectionate hand. She moved even closer to him and whispered in his ear the words he needed to be soothed.

"It is alright Harry, brother my sweet brother, you must remember that in the end it is you who is King and not them ... you have my support and my eternal love for you, something you can always count on." He pondered on those tender words as he moved to kiss her once more returning to his usual passionate self that made Henry the best lover.

* * *

**December 5th**

**Greenwich Palace: (Following Morning)**

Anne Boleyn who was strolling through the Palace in her blue gown, was fuming with rage as she saw that one of her ladies was missing from their chambers.

She questioned all of her Ladies and fellow companions who knew the girl of where could she be, they all responded shaking their heads that they didn't know. Last, she took Margaret by surprise as she pushed her through her quarter and closed the door behind them, the girl frightened by her Mistress' moves did not have time to think properly about the situation as the Queen forcefully pushed her to the chair.

Meg felt as a detainee as she sat on the wooden chair, invisibly strapped their by the force of the Queen's eyes as she circled around Meg, walking back and forth causing fear to run deep in the girl's bones.

That is exactly what Anne wanted in the end from her enemies. To grow fearful of Anne to the point where they could be intimidated enough to answer anything that Anne might ask them. This was no different. Margaret felt like a stalked prey about to be eaten by a wild animal, and the wild animal was Anne, the same woman who had promised Meg safety and security from everything including the King, but yet here she was about to question her like she was some guilty criminal.

"Where has your sister been?" She asked the frightened Meg in a low voice.

Meg shook her head not really sure how to respond to Anne's question, in reality she had no clue of where her sister -who had recently thanks to her been called to the Queen's service- could be. For all she knew her sister might have returned to her husband whom she claimed she couldn't stand one more day without seeing his _pretty _face. Or she could well be sleeping with some of the men in the Castle as it was typical of her libertine behavior.

But for Margaret's sake, she chose to think the former, it was imperative for her Elizabeth's sake and for her own that she didn't went strolling around looking for somebody else to have sex with, Anne was not somebody that would tolerate that behavior in her Ladies, especially if it happened to be the sister of her child's Governess.

"Are you sure or you don't want to answer me?" Anne asked, this time in a strict voice.

"I will ask again. Where. Has. Your. Sister. Been?" - She repeated.

"Honestly I don't know your Majesty! All I know is that me and my sister hardly talk so wherever she went only she can tell you herself and it is useless to question me any longer." Margaret said in a steady and careful voice to her Mistress that made Anne convince herself that she was telling the truth.

It worked and Anne suddenly feeling more calm and sure of Margaret's words sat on a chair next to Margaret. She looked out the window and saw many new Ladies coming to the Palace, all of them were to be in her service and whether Anne had approved or not, in the end it didn't matter, Henry would have his way in this one.

--

_Minutes Later ..._

Elizabeth hurried through the morning crowd of the Queen's usual servants, she tried so hard not to get noticed, but as she passed all the large crowd of her _Mistress_ personal handmaidens, she realized that one of them was soon to inform **her **or her sister Meg -_which was worse-_ of Elizabeth's tatered clothing, her loose hair and the sweat that still trickled on the visible parts of her body.

As she reached the Ladies' chamber next to the Queen's, she sighed as she saw nobody around. She carefully pulled one of the letters that her _lover_had given her from inside her dress, it was still unopened as she had promised her love she would open it only when she was alone, and now that she saw no one around she opened it.

The moment she opened her lover's letter and poem; the angry Queen came strolling to her Ladies' chambers to find Elizabeth holding a letter, that through the heavy ink she could see was signed by the King himself in bold letters.

"What. Is. That?" She asked in a hushed and surprised voice that did not hide her anger and rage towards Elizabeth.

"Nothing." Margaret's sister said playfully not bothering to nod her head or pay respect to her Mistress. She did not consider in all truth Anne to be her Mistress, and the only reason why she had asked Margaret for the post of lady-in-waiting was because her father had practically forced her to it.

She did not want any job close to where that wrench and Harlot Anne Boleyn had command over others, especially her sister whom in truth she thought to be weak for yielding to Anne's will, but then again it was not surprising to Elizabeth for Meg to yield to others. She was always weak, her sister.

Anne advanced towards Elizabeth's figure and snatched the letter without much effort from her hands.

She looked at Elizabeth who only smiled playfully at her _"May Queen"_ waiting for her to explode when she would see what surprise was in store for her.

The Queen read the letter calmly and as she did, all the rage that she had bottled up against Henry and his many liaisons, all of that she had stood up with only for her love and tolerance over Henry but as she looked at Elizabeth's mock smile at Anne and then on her husband's letter, it was the final straw.

What her husband had done was finally beyond redemption.

Not only had he slept with any woman, but his half sister! His sibling, his own blood he slept with, it was incest and a crime against morality and God.

"You!" She yelled at Elizabeth, she couldn't stand it anymore, the smiles this girl was giving her all mockery of herself and her attitude against Anne. She slapped her hard that Elizabeth's head almost felt as it half turned.

Elizabeth not only flinch but felt a stinging pain on her left cheek. She touched it with her hand carefully and when she did, she could feel a cool liquid trickling down her skin that she knew was not sweat.

"You!" The Queen continued, not caring if the stress she was feeling against _her_ could harm her unborn son. " ... made a mockery of me and my Court and OF YOURSELF!"

"You slept with my husband! With your brother, if it were not because you are the sister of my daughter's Governess I swear that I would hit you harder you whore ... if you think that you can go around with your sluttish behavior then you are wrong to think you can pass through me alive Lady Dauncey!" She yelled and finished by giving the whimpering young girl a frozen look that made the tiny figure of Elizabeth Dauncey-More whimper with fright. But much to her disappointment the shame that she should have felt was nowhere found, instead it was fear of being discovered by her greatest rival, her Mistress.

Elizabeth not being able to stand much more hurtful words that she felt unfair comming from the Queen's mouth, left in a hurry with tears and in her tattered clothes for her sister's private chambers that were next to the Queen.

She knocked quickly to her sister's door and much to her relief it was opened quickly. Her sister's head soon appeared and looked at Elizabeth both appalled and disappointed already guessing what had happened. "Sister?" She asked concerned to see her sister in such state.

Her sister nodded knowing what Meg was going to ask and then she was brought into tears by her sister's full embrace to the edge of her bed where she -Margaret- stood up and closed the door, she assured her sister that they could be sure they would have a private conversation with nobody hearing through their walls.

"Thank you, for the first time I thank you Margaret I will find some way, you can be sure of that, to repay you, just tell me when sister." Elizabeth silently said.

Margaret sighed once again seeing her sister return to her usual self. The same younger sister that always thought of the world as this big sphere in which favors counted for money and not for the honor or the gratitude of doing them. _'Typical' _she thought.

"No sister you can't repay me nothing, first tell me why the Queen hit you, I am sure that if slept with a boy or a common Lord this would not have happened; you must have nailed some great fish." Meg said as she playfully grabbed one of the hairs of her younger sister, it reminded her of when they were girls and used to play together just for fun and not on their father's orders.

Elizabeth smiled at her gesture, but she did not respond Margaret, not until she thought back to Henry and the way he made love to her in a way that no man was ever capable of pleasing her, not even her own husband John Dauncey.

"Oh, you have no idea." Elizabeth said and went on to tell Meg the story of how she spent one passionate night on the arms of a loving Prince, her prince, the King of England Harry Tudor.

* * *

**1532, December 25th.**

**More Household.**

Thomas stood pacing in his study, he didn't know what to do. Weeks before Christmas, two to be exact he had received notice that his second youngest _daughter _had caused mayhem at Court, not surprised he had dismissed it; but as he read the next line of the letter that stated it had not just been with anyone she had laid with, but with her own brother for St. Peter's sake!

"You slept with your own brother, your own brother Elizabeth; do you have any idea of what you have done?" He asked to the arrogant form of his daughter -Elizabeth Dauncey More- seated in front of his desk.

Elizabeth for the first time, was fearful of her father. In all the years of being with the man, she had never seen him this mad. She responded nothing and instead moved her head to look at somewhere else ignoring her father's useless (in her opinion) rantings.

"Elizabeth child, look at me and tell me this is all just revenge or some type of silly and malicious jest from the Queen, if you tell me that I assure you I will believe it, but don't disappoint me and tell me you slept with Harry, my son ... your brother, and that you are caring his child, please do it for your father's sake." He pleaded.

Her face not willing to turn to his; shook her head in denial and silently said the words that her father was afraid to hear. "No father"

"All we did I assure you I enjoyed, besides how do you know I am even your daughter for all I know my mum could have slept with somebody else besides you, she always said you were horrible when they_ played _together on your bed, haha." She said, and wore a playful smile as she imagined her father's reaction at her hurtful words.

But much to Elizabeth's dissapointment her father did not yield to her sick wishes and instead for the first time in his life, he used full force against one of his own children as he walked over to where Elizabeth was looking and slapped her.

The action much surprised him as it surprised his own daughter and wife Alice who was looking at the whole scene with shock that her own husband had just slapped one of his own offspring.

Elizabeth's blow was so hard that she fell off her chair hard on the stone cold floor also hurting her arm in the process. She clutched her arm and then her cheek, she cried in pain as she felt a stinging pain on both parts of her body.

"Why?" She asked trying to recover from the pain he had inflicted on her body.

"Elizabeth I am so sorry, I did not think ... I-I daughter please again I am so sorry, sweetheart Elizabeth." He pleaded with her but she refused him as she tried to stand up by herself.

Alice for the first time in this family crisis spoke up at the same time she went to help her young stepdaughter Elizabeth from getting up. "Husband please try to be gentle to your daughter, she is carrying your grandson and the son of your first son." -Alice said reasonably to Thomas but much to her disappointment, whatever flicker of hope she might have seen in him, it only lasted a second for it was later replaced with an expression of utter annoyance and disgust at Elizabeth.

"That thing is not my grandson or whatever **it** may be. Elizabeth is my granddaughter, my 11 grandchildren in legitimate or illegitimate union I accept as my grandsons and daughters. Mary I accept as my granddaughter, Anne's child in her belly I accept as my grandson! But.That.Inside.Elizabeth! I do not." -He said in clear words before continuing- "And I assure you Elizabeth that if you go near the King again you will not worry about me, but of your former fucking Mistress the Queen!!"

Alice and Elizabeth were both surprised to hear the head of their family, the calm and patient Thomas More acting like an insensitive man towards his own daughter, but what most scared his wife was that he had for the first time in his life laid a hand on one of his own daughters.

Elizabeth still on her stepmother's arms whimpered and sobbed as she heard her fathers hurtful words, she couldn't believe her father had shown her hatred, he was always a sweet man to her despite of all she had done and said against him. Now he behaved no different than all of the men at Court.

"Papa please!! Daddy ... please come back, it was not my fault ... it was Anne's! Wait." She yelled trying to get up and reach her father, but her stepmother's strong and worrying arms kept her from standing up and running to him in hopes that he could be reconciled with her upon seeing her miserable face.

Her father turned to give Elizabeth one more look of disappointment and then nodded to his wife before leaving the room, not bothering to hear Elizabeth's screams and pleading attempts to bring her father back.

* * *

**(1532)**

**Hampton Court Palace.**

**Christmas Night Celebrations.**

As Henry and his wife Anne watched all of their guests, both from home and foreign including Chapuys (Mary's and dead Isabella's everlasting supporter) they smiled happily as Anne whispered to him how she daily felt the baby's kicks. Henry told her that this could only mean a good sign that their baby, which he was sure this time it would be a son, that he would grow up to be a fighter and a warrior like his daddy.

"A future King in the making, ready to make the Revolution on our reformation." He told Anne.

Anne smiled and for the first time since her fall out with that awful wrench Elizabeth, she felt happy that she and her husband were finally having a perfect Christmas with no yelling, fights or nasty words at their feasting.

Chancellor Cromwell also served to their happiness even further as he told them of his actions to dissolve the monasteries and direct the moeny over to the King's purse to do with it as he wished.

Anne not wanting to spoil the night, absolved herself from talking to Henry and Cromwell against this, she did not want the money to go to just one person, even if that person was her husband the King she would feel much more relieved if the money would go the way her reformed ideals dictated, to the people who most needed it, the poor. Sadly Henry let himself be swayed once more by that man Cromwell and by his greed.

The Queen mentally felt relieved as the man left their sight, and she returned to have a sweet conversation with her husband leaving off to where they were interrupted. She silently thought as they kissed in front of everybody if the Reform would go the way she wanted it to be, helping the people of England but as she thought of the her husband's advisers she started to doubt if Henry and his men really wanted a Reformation.

Maybe as Anne smiled sweetly to Henry and made a toast for their Happy Christmas;all that her King really wanted in the end was not Reformation, but Revolution.

* * *

**December 26th**

**Greenwich Palace.**

Margaret carefully placed her little niece on her crib, she waited for the young girl to sleep when she was sure that little Elizabeth had finally gone to sleep; she went away from her room and into the living room of the girl's private chambers carefully reading again the letter her brother, the King had sent her on Christmas day.

She cried as she read those dreaded lines once again. _" ... for the worry that I deeply have for you and your family, it has come to my attention and my wife's too, that a suitable match between you and an _**honorable**_ man should be made as soon as ..."_ It was awful, the sentence had not only made her Christmas sour and sad, but it also brought despair to Margaret she thought back of William.

In all her years she had just loved one man and that had been William, but he was now dead since almost a year ago and constantly to alleviate the pain it had been Elizabeth who she had to get close to feel better. But now, her own half sibling wanted to marry her, and what was worse is that Anne might be involved too but she didn't want to accept that, she reasoned that this was all Henry's.

Why was he doing this? She didn't want to marry anybody, not now and perhaps never, she was happy with being married once and she was just not ready to give out her heart to somebody else, and a stranger no less that her brother had picked out of nowhere and without her permission.

She silently sobbed and cried as she thought back to her old life in full knowledge that this was the point of no return, and being one of the people the King had power over he could command and do whatever he wanted with her.

_'You're the lamb to the slaughter and part to his Revolution as anybody else, like it or not.' _Her inner voice whispered, and she knew that this time, that no one would be able to get her out of this predicament, not even the Queen Anne with all her power and influence; she had to wait and see what kind of husband her brother had chosen for her.

Meg sighed and hoped that he had chosen a good one, somebody who was gentle and kind like William and her father.

* * *

**A/N:**

_Hope you liked it, I know the violence I referred to is family violence like Thomas More hitting his daughter and although it may not seem as enough violence or gore, knowing how in real life Thomas More was a man described to only go as far as hitting his children with a light feather which means never hitting them, for him doing this for the first time and to a daughter it means gore and really family violence, especially by the force of the hit, he hit her very harshly making her fall from her chair and hitting the floor also fracturing her arm._

_As for the incest scene sorry but it serves the purposes of the story._


	4. Behind the Memories

**A/N:**

Hope you like it and Thomas and Katherine fans get ready for your favorites scenes, they will share a lot of time here!

**Important notice**: to reviewers and readers : Besides reading and reviewing, read the final author's note of this chapter at the end as you finish this Chapter 4 please, we have a special thank you to all from me and princess Anna my co author.

Special thanks to reganx, aesthetic narcissit, ladyredvelvet and lemondropseverus who have reviewed, thank you.

My Profile is updated and you can see the details as stated here of each scene and what each character wears on my profile under TBP I/II/II pictures and character setting.

* * *

**Chapter #4: Behind the Memories.**

_"De tu conciencia depende heredar el mundo para tus hijos o para las cucarachas." ("In your conscience depends the fate of whether you leave the world ready for your children, or for cockroaches and other vermin ...") -_Anonymous.

--

**(1501)**

_"Do you love me Thomas?" Katherine asked me randomly as she looked to the ceiling of our bed._

_I sighed and slowly nodded, even if she could not look at me I knew she was hearing me. Deep down I wondered how much of Katherine doubted our relationship, and how much more was she willing to give into this lie? Father John who had been gracious enough to marry us had said that his lips would always be sealed as long as he was paid. He wondered how much longer the priest would be satisfied with their money. Katherine was rich and she no doubt, had much money, but as far as her Treasury goes, it was not enough to suffice a Princess of Spain's spending as it should be, and that had been mainly because her father - a great man of wit and ambition- was not willing to give out his own purse for his daughter until she was married to the son of Henry Tudor, Arthur of Wales._

_My _wife_ sighing once more turned to look at me with her beautiful sky blue eyes, it frightened me that she was so concerned about her question and that she was not answering my own as before._

_"Katherine I do, you know that but do you ever think about the future and what it might hold?"_

_She shook her head. "No, I don't. Why would I if you say we have each other?" _

_Knowing that it was better for me not to press the matter more I quickly changed the subject and talked about her mother, the "infamous" Isabella. "Tell me more about her." She smiled as I said that but somehow I could still see some worry in her, she proceeded to tell me in a slow and cheerful voice how her mother was always a great leader for her people, that despite all the battles, she always emerged as a human being and true Queen for her people ad not like the silly villainous portrayal the English made her out to be. One of them she told me was Henry VII who often radiated propaganda of her mother as a butcher rather than a "Royal" Housekeeper and 'true' wife and mother to her husband and daughters._

_"It is not Henry's fault Katherine, many people here do not see well that your mother is trying to get over Ferdinand's shoes when he too has won great battles. Don't always blame the English man, it is not our faults." I said to her quietly in a neutral voice._

_She sighed to my answer like she always did, and somehow at that moment I figured out that she must have finally realized that all we had was about to end, sooner or later but the question for that time was not when, but who would end it first. Me the loyal and faithful lover, or her: the dutiful girl who yearned to be loved and fully appreciated with every respect I knew she deserved._

_"Thomas I am not blaming you or other English men, but I do blame the attitudes of you men and women in this Country that they rather let themselves be taken the heat of passion, rather than the coldness of reason. As a scholar and son of a Judge you should know that this Country needs change and I don't think Arthur Tudor or anyone of his sisters can achieve that." She said in a steady voice that showed hidden ambition, I just nodded playfully to her response and climbed over and kissed her passionately on her rosy lips._

_We could always find some comfort in our troubles in moments like this when our passion took over our bodies and minds. After we kissed; we made love all over and as I ravaged her with my sweet words of love, she ravaged me with her promises of love and eternity._

_I could never forget this night, for it was the night that not only did I pledge my body and soul to her for the tenth time, but also the night were we both realized that a 'bright' and shiny future awaited for us and with our son that lay asleep in my wife's belly as I stroked it carefully with my body as we danced our bodies to the rhythm of our passion._

_--_

**Present **

**1533 January 5th.**

Thomas looked at his 'old' wife Katherine, his first true love. She looked so pale and solemn on her lonely quarters at Greenwich, hardly anybody came to visit her and when she had requested their son to allow her to visit her granddaughters Mary and Elizabeth, he had refused telling her that he would rather see them burn in hell than let them be touched any further by her poison.

It had been the lowest blow Katherine had ever received from that man who had once been the loving creature that Thomas had stroked with tenderness while he was on the belly of his sweet Princess Katherine. Unbelievable to think that the King who was his son and blood could do such a thing to his own mother, and more when that woman was the one responsible for so many victories that Henry had taken credit for. Victories that were the real reason why he was still seated on the throne of England.

Katherine looked at Thomas and smiled wryly, she dismissed her faithful servant Elizabeth Parish from the room and told her to wait outside her apartment making sure no one was to disturb her and Thomas.

Thomas watched the girl exit the room locking the door behind them. He sighed relieved that the girl had left them, he needed to tell his _former _wife something important and he did not want foreign ears to hear what he had to say to her.

"Well Thomas ... leave the pleasantries aside and tell me the truth ... Why are you really here? Is it to tell me your _HARLOT _daughter slept with our son, or is it to tell me that you finally admit your failure in your _sweet_ little family." Katherine said with spite making sure he noticed the venom in her voice.

He looked to her not really sure what face to give the woman, he did not expect her to be cheerful when hearing the news of Elizabeth and Henry, but he certainly did not expect her to be this insulting of his daughter, no matter how mad he was with his wretched daughter he still demanded some respect when somebody referred to his family. Especially when said person was Katherine, the woman who never stopped to throw venom at him like a callous snake whenever they were in private.

But no more he decided, this time Katherine would not walk away satisfied at his hurt, not this time.

"She is my daughter Katherine, that harlot is my daughter and don't blame the temptress, even in the Old Testament temptress were often used and God sometimes blamed more their victims for falling into their sin than the temptress herself ... your Grace." He said sure that he had finally struck a nerve into his Princess Dowager.

But contrary to Thomas' thoughts at winning in their game of words and insults, it was Katherine who had the last laugh in the end. She straightened up her sitting position on the bed she was resting in. She looked at Thomas with her turquoise and deep blue eyes, and when she was sure that they both locked their gazes on each other she struck first by sending him a gaze that penetrated deep inside his soul.

Instantly as he felt her gaze never leave his eyes, he wanted to run away and look the other way, and never come back to Greenwich again, but as he looked to her cold stare he found that it was not the fact that he was trapped scared him, but the fact that he did not want to look away. He still had love for this woman, and while it was buried deep beneath his heart it was still there, looking at Katherine made that love resurface from the layers of rock he had built around his heart.

"What happened to us Katherine?" Thomas asked solemnly to Katherine.

Katherine being the ever strong Dowager Princess of noble lineage, showed no emotion but she finally sighed and responded much to Thomas' surprise in a kind and humble voice. "There was never enough time and I fear that while you did not fight your father Thomas, it was my fault too in the end. I did not fight my mother either and I tried so hard to tell myself that you were gone, but though you were there hidden among the shadows teaching our son everything you could to make him a great King, I could not finish to wipe my tears at night, especially when I knew there was no man besides my bed and even when Arthur lived ... I wanted no other man but you, I thought him to be you so the pain would not be as bad. And when I had Henry I had him as a reminder of the hope and dreams we once shared. He really reminded me for a time of you, but now that he is grown up and is conspiring against us, the people who gave him life; I find myself needing you, but most importantly wanting you again Thomas. I never stopped loving you, never, no matter what I said to you."

Thomas stood shocked at her words. He did not know what to respond, after all these years and all those private fights they had together, her spite and venom she threw at him whenever they were in private now resulted that it was not out of hate, but out of regret that neither he nor she had the courage to fight in the past to defend their love from their parents. He tried to tell himself that it was a lie, another bluff of Katherine's but as he looked deeper into that woman's soul he saw that it was all truth.

Katherine who was seated on her bed, she patiently waited for her old husband to respond to her declaration. Following her words there was a pregnant pause and neither of the occupants of the room dared to speak first, not until somebody else came and they hoped to be interrupted and break them of this tense moment.

The Princess seeing no one of them would respond, she stood up and began to walk slowly to where he was seated, but as she began to walk a sudden and excruciating pain invaded her. She felt the pain coming from her abdomen, she clutched her stomach tightly as she felt the pain increase, it was so great that she lost balance of her legs and almost fell dead on the floor, thankfully Thomas had been there and immediately had rushed to her aid.

He held her in his arms.

Katherine sighed deeply as she felt the pain passed her by.

She thanked God mentally for alleviating her of such pain.

Thomas who was not yet convinced told her it was best if they find a doctor, but Katherine immediately yelled "No!" at him. "Please don't! The Doctors can't help me Thomas, nobody can, I have been having this after I had Henry in the birth chambers, I have never been better, but the pain always comes and goes ... it comes when I am near you and it goes when I am in your arms, and while you may say that being far from each other helps, it doesn't Thomas it only drives me further into pain and the sad thing is that I cause myself more pain by wanting you close and then driving you away." She answered in a broken voice that made Thomas feel compassion towards his old love Katherine.

Thomas stood aghast at what he heard, he did not imagine that inside that cold and hard exterior that Katherine built for herself, there was actually a human being living down there.

Neither of them said a word, they didn't want to, there was still pain hidden in their features, emotional pain and it was on Thomas' shoulders where all the pain fell.

He suddenly wanted to touch her, to kiss her and sooth her pale skin by making love to her all over again like when they were young, but his ever lasting nagging conscience who acted as his own counsel in times of crisis became his reason and told him that to do so he would be signing his own death sentence to his son. Thomas didn't care for the nagging voice, he just wanted to be close to Katherine, to kiss her and make her his again.

But in the end Thomas knew that as his eyes fell elsewhere to Katherine, that he had lost the battle with his mind, his conscience won and he was a prisoner once more of reason and common sense over his feelings of the heart.

Katherine knew what Thomas was thinking and with one swift move, she acted.

She lifted herself up to be a close distance from him, as she neared his face she let out a small sigh and then arming herself of valor; she approached him and softly kissed him on the lips.

Thomas did not respond for he was too shocked. He wanted to protest and to move away but he found all of his movements paralyzed, as the kiss neared its end, Thomas brushing all of his thoughts of reason aside, he responded to her kiss by deepening it.

She did not protest and fully accepted as Thomas pushed himself further into her mouth followed by her hands wrapped around his necks.

They continued with their passion for various moments until Thomas' self righteous conscience brought him back to reason. Katherine sensing his slow movements from her mouth did something that surprised even her. She released one hand from his neck and used to forcefully open his shirt. "Please" She whispered.

He was about to say no when he felt her soft touch deepened as it went inside his shirt, he moaned softly in her mouth with pleasure.

She felt the kiss deepen as she made her hand travel deeper into his flesh, he flinched slightly as her hand started to travel to the lower part of his back.

It was a torturing ride the way their passion was taking control of them once more like when they were young. He was afraid that he might commit the same mistakes he did when he laid with Katherine before their marriage. Katherine did not bother to think in such trivial things, she was no plagued with them like Thomas. He was being the practical lover, the reasonable one, while she, was being the true lover, in essence the passionate one.

She did not stop and neither did he moments after when he grabbed her and hugged her deeply that she felt her body being pulled unto his.

The battle against their wills to rule their passion failed miserably. Their bodies could not contain their passion any longer, they ruled themselves out of their reason and their conscience that had given up on trying to convince them of the logic of their situation, shattered and destroyed itself supplanted by carnal pleasure.

Former Regent Katherine had such desire to rip Thomas clothes from him that they did not wait for her to do it. Thomas deepened the kiss even more leaving her nearly out of breath, it aroused her so that she nailed her strong hands on his coat and tore it all up with such force that she did not knew she had.

Thomas slowly touched with his two hands on his Princess Dowager's back the fabric of the dress, when he felt his shirt and clothing began to fall of by her act of savage nature, he tore half of her upper chest coverings, he slid his hand carefully inside her chest, touching ecstasy that made him lost in a sea of passion and pure pleasure.

Katherine finally tired of their play and no results made Thomas fall down softly on the ground, his back gave a soft thump that could be heard by only them but it did not matter, the only sensations their bodies were ready to feel was those that were ready for their love.

Thomas wrapped his hand on each respective side of her neck, as he did this he let them slid slowly down the lower base of her neck until he let the force flow through his hands and with full strength he pushed away her vest. There was nothing covering her now but a thick corset he found easy to tare away from her body.

For the whole night they remained hidden inside each others arms, not bothering to look outside of their quarters where two stranger's eyes watched with a jealous manner the two lovers asleep in their bed.

* * *

**1533, January 1st.**

**New Year, Greenwich Palace.**

A chubby man with a loud voice began to yell "Make way, make way for the Princess Elizabeth ... Make way!" as the couple of the King and Queen brought in her arms a rosy and healthy infant by the name of Elizabeth, the King and Queen's true _**legitimate**_ daughter and soon to become heir presumptive in case there was no son, to the throne of England and Lady Sovereign of Ireland.

But that only was if Anne the Queen failed to give Henry her love, a male heir, like she had promised when she first tangled in Henry's web of lust and desire over her.

She would keep her promise, that was sometime she decided long ago when she met Henry for the first time, she would not let herself be stepped over like Isabella and Katherine had been. King or not, and whether she was a Queen or not, she would deliver this baby to full term and it _would _be a son, one to be his heir and keeper of safety on the English borders.

They desperately needed a son, he needed a son. And as she looked at Henry looking lovingly at Elizabeth as well as the other guests who stared at her daughter, the Princess, she decided that she too would keep her own safe by giving England and Henry a son to keep Elizabeth safe along with her position as Princess and legitimate heir to Henry.

People around them stared in awe at their two Monarchs.

Once again, Anne had managed to convince Henry to throw another expensive party at her request, one where it was not only their daughter's celebration of her second birthday; but also with blessing of the Archbishop the coming of a new year.

The _May Queen_ once loved and cherished by her English people, was now a woman whose age had finally caught up with her in the most poignant moment of her life.

Her pale and tired complexion hidden away with expensive hair ornament and fake smiles, were not enough for her enemies not to see through the veil of deception of both Monarchs. It was whispered in Court many gossip, but part of that gossip in the wrong ears could prove very dangerous for the Queen, especially when her Family -the _Boleyns_- had made many enemies at Court, including some of his Majesty's closest friends like Charles Brandon -the _Duke of Suffolk_- and his wife the King's loving Aunt, Mary "Rose" Tudor who did not bother to hide her hatred against her new Queen.

The Queen managed to get to her throne seat next to her Husband's safely without tripping and carefully handed her daughter to her Governess, the Lady Margaret. Anne had been very nervous that she might trip or fall of the stairs, all those crazy and angry looks the nobles were giving her were stressing Anne terribly, she couldn't stand their looks anymore. They had all bowed friendship and honor to their Queen when she was first crowned, and now, she feared they were all conspiring against her to remove her from Her Majesty's favor.

--

**Present**

**1533, February 14th.**

**Hampton Court Palace.**

Margaret More a widow, a mother and daughter to one of the most brilliant men in England waited in a patient manner outside of her brother's quarters.

The King, she knew hated her. He did not need to show it, she just felt it by the way he talked to her, and by the way he had shamed her sister, Elizabeth into seducing her to his bed. She guessed it was because of envy, the everlasting thorn that pitted men against each other, brother against brother and also brother against sister.

Meg looked at her hands, they were her father's hands, these hands had been through so much, first the touch of her dead mother moments before she slumped in her bed and died, then the touch of her deformed dead baby brother, William who died of the sweating disease, and now this.

Henry wanted to marry her to some old or young bloke who all he cared for was to have children, she felt the same when her father wanted her and William to marry, at first she said not for she wanted to continue her education; but as she met William she saw him to be a tolerant husband of religion and of her education, he in fact propelled her to continue her studies and become a better scholar than her father had been. But now, she wasn't to sure with the new man Henry was to chose for her.

Would he respect her like William did? Would he love and cherish every moment he spend time with her, bow never to care for anyone else than her and be faithful in all ways to her alone?

Meg wasn't to sure that it would be the case here. Anne had told her that Henry was to chose a Duke or an Earl for her, _"a great honor" _she had said, no other girl was to escalate as high as Meg had done, but her instinct knew very well what these young men who just inherit lands from their fathers wanted. They wanted children and especially male heirs so their line could survive and if they wouldn't be given such honor, they would often hit or chastise their wives with awful humiliations at Court that they were curse, she had seen many of them gone through that humiliation of being exposed as _witches_ or _harlots_ by their own husbands.

It was something she was not willing to go trough, but as she saw the doors of his quarters open and the King himself come by with a handsome man behind him, whose face was that of arrogance and betrayal, she knew at once she was doomed.

* * *

**A/N:**

From _Princess Anna_:

escribo este mensaje a todos y cada uno de ustedes, mis queridos lectores, con el proposito de agradecer sus visitas a esta fanfiction, a veces me pregunto... qe seria de mi si no pudiera leer ni escribir? qe seria de mi sin la companiia de ustedes mis lectores, ojala i sigan leyendo de esta gran historia. gracias (I write this message to all and each one of you, because you my dear readers with the purpose I write to you to thank you! and your wonderful visits to fanfiction, sometimes I wonder ... What would be of me if I could not read or write? What would be of me without the company of you my readers, I hope that you keep reading this great story! Thank-you.)

From _Darkvampirewitch_: My dear readers that was my best friend and co author of this great story Anna or as her nick is Princess Anna, she is a great writer too and she is the one responsible for the title of this chapter, the quotes and in other future chapter she will help me with the main characters as with some situations, she is a great friend and she is happy to work with me as I am happy to work with her. This story has taken a toll on us, but fortunately we have all vacations and we are going to finish it, and there is more suspense and intrigue and steamy chapters!! thank you!!


	5. Harsh Reality

**A/N:**

**Me and my co author, companion and friend want to thank all of our readers, and reviewers who are the ones for me that make me going, and keep me up going with the valor to do this great story. you know that your reviews are what keep me encouraged.**

* * *

**Chapter #5: The Harsh Reality.**

_"Strength is Life. Weakness is Death." -_ Swami Viekananda

--

Thomas woke up to the sounds of birds, he looked to his window confirming he is not crazy as he saw many yellow birds outside of his home, playing in the grass. He sighed deeply and returned to rest his head on his pillow, his body was next to his wife's Alice silent form. She had been through so much lately and sometimes he felt that it was his fault, for everything that had happened to her, including the death of her baby, their child.

He gently lifted one hand and caressed her hairs, she was so beautiful when she slept, despite what everybody said about her nose or her awful appearance, she was beautiful and her beauty did not lie in her vanity but in her dualist and fighting spirit, that never ceased to give up on him and his family.

Thomas gently once again tried to wake his wife by whispering softly on her ear, sweet words of love and affection, but she smiled meekly and refused to get up.

He laughed at her playful attitude towards his intents to try and wake her up. Lately she had become more patient and somewhat more playful towards him when it came to their "private" matters in the bedroom.

"Alice" His voice mockingly serious made his wife turn her attention towards him. She smiled as she saw him beginning to smile, she felt so foolish for falling once again for his childish games.

In all truth, Thomas always remained a child to her, he had the dreams of one and certainly the playful behavior when it came to him taunting his wife on purpose. When he had first met Thomas, she thought herself crazy for ever considering to marry such a strange and awkward man, but as she began to know him in the previous days before their marriage. She found out what a truly remarkable man he was, and she felt so luck back at the time for marrying such a man.

A man who never hit her, never got drunk or yelled lousy words to her and his children, the only time he ever did hit his children as she heard from Erasmus, was with the tip of a feather.

In all truth, Thomas for a time seemed like a remarkable man to her, that is, before ... _she_ ... knew what had **really** happened, with him and Katherine.

Alice sometimes felt some sort of jealousy to that remarkable woman, she was Thomas' true love and as much affection as Thomas had for Alice; he didn't love her, he loved Katherine. Because Katherine always represented what Alice never was, an educated and firm woman who fought for her beliefs, rather than a foolish and ignorant woman who much sooner would saver her skin than defend what she really stood for.

That image of Katherine, the immortal Princess Dowager who came from Spain lonely and without friends, was something Alice could never triumph over when it was the eternal image that Thomas had in his heart of his first and only love. Alice was only something that Thomas adored and felt responsible for, but not something he worshiped or loved as much as Katherine. And that is where Alice felt jealous.

"Husband you should know better than to play those silly jests on me ... I am not that tolerant you know." She said quietly.

Thomas smiled at her response, instead of recanting from his silly jests as she hoped he would, he laughed softly at her annoyed look and then kissed her softly on the lips.

It was not a kiss of passion or love, but it was the way Thomas always kissed his wife; with tenderness and care. Alice enjoyed the kiss, the brief touch of his lips always brought joy to her wounded heart, it made her feel like there was no Katherine at all, just her -the faithful wife- and Thomas.

Alice sighed deeply as Thomas embraced her, with the same tenderness he showed when he kissed her. She felt so safe in his strong arms.

But as she felt his embrace, there was still that nagging feeling that those strong and soft arms of his, had gone through another woman prior to her.

Thomas' wife always knew that what her husband felt for her was not love, but sweet care and affection, the same care and affection you can feel for others that were sweet and nice to you. But for Alice, she always tossed aside that sensation of care and often she replaced it with that of love, the same kind of love she knew he felt for Katherine, and while it was selfish of her part to do so; she knew that deep inside it was her who possessed Thomas, and not that other distinguished woman who in all truth, had lost her opportunity with him long ago.

Alice was very happy to be with the man she had chosen as husband, and to love him with all her heart and soul. To know that it was her, and not Katherine who was besides him, whom he had chosen to take the title of 'wife', that was what made Alice More happy. And so she and Thomas continued in their long embrace, without a care in the world for the others' true feelings on their matrimony.

* * *

**1533, February 15th.**

Margaret was pacing as she watched her beautiful little niece play with the new doll that she had given her as a late birthday present. The young and strong woman that Meg was suddenly shattered as Elizabeth looked up to her, giggling and calling her sweet names.

The Lady Governess took the girl in her arms and slowly began to sing the little two year old a song.

"_Where is the heart hat hinders love? ... You receive of what you give, that gives us no white sorry, where is the heart that see no red ... Where is the one that never bathes in red ... Where is the heart that is you ... My love."_ Elizabeth began to drift into a steady sleep with each word her Aunt sang to her.

"_Where is the one that never bathes in hate ... Where is the one that is the chosen one, where is the heart that never lets go_ ... Hush Elizabeth it's okay, you Aunt is here." Margaret said to Elizabeth, as soon as she did, the little two year old Princess drifted into a complete sleep. She, her aunt, sighed and softly put Elizabeth inside her little crib. It was a relief that Elizabeth was never a crying girl, that way Margaret had more time to do other thing with the little girl, like teaching her.

Meg truly missed being away from Elizabeth. She would always make silly excuses to other of Anne's ladies of why she couldn't be with them, or to Anne herself. She just wanted to be close to that little girl, because she represented everything that was pure and uncorrupted by the world she lived in.

King Henry wanted her to marry, but Meg refused many times on his request.But somehow this time, it had all been different. This time, Henry had won in his request to have Meg married and the worst part was not that he had not ask her permission, but that her father since he was no longer Chancellor; could not exercise power or influence on his son to stop the marriage.

Whether Meg accepted or not, the marriage was going to happen. Nobody refused the King, especially when the request did not only came from the King himself, but also from Anne's. She doubted that the Queen had actually agreed with the King, but knowing her half brother's attitude; she knew that if he wanted something -no matter how little the request- he would get it no matter what. _'Just like my sister'_

And she could not forget her father ... Who she could not refuse this marriage for him. Because if she put her decision above the King's, then there would be hell to pay for her and her family, she was doomed to obey.

Margaret silently walked to the living room of the Princess' quarters and settled herself there on a comfortable wooden chair.

She had not expected any visits but yet the door opened to reveal much to her surprise, her sister Cecily and a little baby she was carrying in her arms. Margaret could not be any happier as she approached her youngest sister and embraced her carefully to not harm her infant child.

"Cecilia ... What are you doing here? I thought your husband would not let you go near me or our sister ... after _what happened_." She mentioned carefully, Cecilia sighed knowing how well her husband had badly spoken against both of her sisters. It was no secret in the family More that Elizabeth had slept with the King, whom all by now knew it was her brother, and that Meg was one of the most envied girls of the Queen's circles for having escalate to high as Governess of a Princess; that her own family - that is Cecilia's family- did not see well looking for her welfare.

"Well you know me, I have my ways to convince him, it was not that hard and besides sister, I missed you, really missed you. It has been so boring in our father's house without your quarrels with our sister Bess." Meg softly laughed at her sister's last sentence. She and Elizabethhad never been that close as sisters as she hoped they would be, but as far as sisterly love went, their bond was still there as it was with Cecily and Margaret.

Margaret beckoned her sister to sit besides her on another wooden chair, Cecily accepted and her sister immediately offered to take the little infant from Cecily's arms so she could feel more free after such a tiring journey.

"She likes you." Cecily said. "I never thought you would rise this high. But that is to be expected, you always aspired for your education to reach its full potential, I hope my husband could see it the same way as I do."

"Well Cecilia you can't expect your husband to see things the same as you. After all, a couple is bound to always have quarrels and disagreements, its part of being married." Meg said patiently as she was rocking her little niece in her arms lovingly.

Cecilia smiled at her sister's care and immediately interrupted their silence and went to ask something, that she knew Meg might not liked to be asked, but it was time somebody ask it, especially now that the King wanted to betroth Meg to somebody who their father could do no say in.

"Meg I know you always refuse to talk about this ..." Cecily started. "... But you must know that you can't stop His Majesty, his will is **his** will. And neither you or Papa will stop it. Meg accept that you will be married soon and that whether you like it or not, you will have to forget about William and also start giving the news lightly to your two children."

Her sister shook her head rejecting Cecily's reasoning. "No!" She said raisingher voice. "I can't forget William, he is the father of Mary and Anthony, I lost another when he was away from us ... I never forgave myself for it, and replacing my dead husband's memory with that arrogant George is just as humiliating as what Elizabeth did, or what our father did in the past."

"What Elizabeth did is different sister, understand that. She went under our noses and shamed us, but she did it to spite you because she always felt you were our father's favorite ... What you are doing by refusing the King will only harms us more, when people know that Elizabeth has either delivered a bastard girl or boy from the King; our reputation will be ruined and scorned. You refusing the now Duke Locksley will only harm it further, please don't do this to us Meg." Cecily pleaded to her sister, hoping that she might hear her plight for their family and save what little reputation would be left of them after Elizabeth's child was born.

Margaret sighed, giving up on something was one of the things that her father always told her was the price for something better, not for something worse, but now, the rules of the game had changed by forces beyond their control. Henry was a young beast that if provoked, could become a dangerous force of nature that could swipe like the tides of the ocean, all that lay in his way to get something.

She had no choice. And she knew it, no matter how much she tried to defend her position and her morality; the truth was that she was going to marry Locksley or face the consequences of leaving her family at the mercy of Henry's wolves.

Cecilia looked at her sister. She was sad how this turned out for Meg; but they had no choice and it was Cecilia who had gone, out of her own will without telling her family, to reason with Meg and let her see the reality that she was living in.

Meg stood up at the same time her sister did, and handed her back her infant child. "I will do it, but only because I have no choice, I hope God if he has sympathy for us women, that he will grant me peace of mind that I did the right choice." The her voice quivered as she looked at her sister. "And to you as well ... _sister_."

* * *

**1533, February 28th**

**Greenwish Palace.**

Anne Boleyn, Queen of England and Lady Consort of Ireland; now lay tired in her bed resting. All that she wanted she had obtained, first it was for ambition, she did not love the King, but as she grew to know him, be close to him, she saw what a marvelous and peaceful man and lover he could be. She had completely forgot about Henry Percy as she married him, Anne had only eyes for Henry and no one else, she was faithful in every way to Henry, even if he did not have the capacity to be faithful to her.

Everything she knew she had sacrificed for him. She had bled for him, delivered him a beautiful child whom she had loved and changed for completely, just for him, and still he did not manage to change, why was it?

The voice inside her head whispered _'Elizabeth'_, the name of that whore who was none other than the sister of her beloved daughter's Governess. She had stolen Anne from any hope she had of her husband ever changing his cheating ways behind his wife's back.

But fate she reminded herself was cruel, and she had to thread carefully now. Last week's visit from Dr. Linacrewhere he said that the stress she was putting herself with, could damage the baby or cause a miscarriage and that was something Anne could not face herself with. Not when it was not only her, but her daughter, the sweet two year old Elizabeth who could be swept away from her father's favor.

Anne also had another problem, that at first came only as her husband's, but now it was also Anne's cause of main worry, the Lady Mary. Just last night her husband and all Parliament had declared thanks to the help of the Archbishop, the procedures which had taken a toll on Henry and Anne for 6 years, to have the Princess Mary, Duchess of York, be successfully removed from the line of succession and be declared as a bastard.

This had taken much debate and Master Cromwell, Henry's new Chancellor couldn't be happier that they had finally removed a thorn from their spines, but they also had to worry since many of the English people would not see with good eyes that their much beloved Princess had been removed from the line of succession, and be declared a bastard was something that would surely incur the wrath of many loyal Princes to the Papacy in Christendom.

Anne was now threading in dangerous waters, but it was something she had to keep doing so her daughter's position, hers and Henry would be secure.

She believed firmly in the '_new'_ ways. Even if her home Country still had some close minds to these ideas; she knew that with the help of diplomacy and patience, they could make England into a cradle of a new world. A world where there was no ignorance, blind fanaticism, a world where knowledge and science would become the prime objectives of the new generation of Kings and Queens of England. She had seen it with Elizabeth, her daughter was well raised beyond her years, thanks to the help of Margaret More and her, she had become a little Princess who the only thing on her mind was to crave more knowledge and help her people, if it ever came the chance that she would be Queen.

The Queen could not be any more happier to have a daughter like Elizabeth, but now that her half sister had been declared bastard, she would have to keep that girl away from Elizabeth, she feared she might do something to her little girl.

* * *

**A/N:**

_Don't forget review!!_


	6. Banishments and Goodbyes

**A/N**

Plot, here you will see more intrigue, some violence and Katherine and Anne will have hard times ahead!

Special Thanks to _ReganX_ for reviewing last chapter and to _Ladyredvelvet_, _aestheticsnarcissist_, _lemondropseverus_ all of my reviewers.

Remember it's much easier for me if you **review**! **lol**. Review if you can for each chapter that way I know what my reviewers like and dislike, also hard times ahead for Meg, will she survive and how will Elizabeth take that her favorite Governess is leaving? Intrigue and passion await you, I cried with my co author doing this. Very sensitive and sentimental this piece.

**Enjoy this**:

* * *

**Chapter #6: Banishments and Goodbyes**

_"Love has a hem to her garment that reaches to the very dust. It sweeps the stains from the streets and lanes, and because it can, it must." - _Mother Theresa

********

--

1533, March 11th

**The More**

_This is where I am; in the More. Henry finally grew tired of my rantings and nagging to see my granddaughters that him and his **Queen **__sent me here. I don't know if Anne did it on purpose, or if that girl really wanted to spare me from a worse fate._

_I know perfectly well that the young woman is not looking for my well-being, but for hers. And I think I know why, no! I know why. It is easy, if I die or am executed because of Henry, and Thomas too, then what safety is there for Anne?_

_Does she really hate me so? She doesn't, but the fact that she knows that I prevented her desired marriage to her first love of Henry Percy, and then worked hard to separate her from my son when I knew she wanted to snatch him while he was still married to Isabella; was enough for her to hate me, for the rest of her days that are yet to be._

_One can easily judge as she can, this girl knows too much and her knowledge once made us great friends in a Country that we felt so foreign in. We helped each other, but that is now in the past. Now in this world we are enemies, and even if she and her family are my_ _**main enemies**; I spare from that animosity her child and the one she is carrying in her womb._

_I would never cause hatred or have a cause to hate my granddaughters, why would I when I love them so much both? True that at first I hated Elizabeth, but when I saw her (thanks to the Lady Governess at the time, Margaret More) I fell in love with that innocent and beautiful child, because she reminded me so much with her beautiful blond cherry hair of my elder sister Juana, who was my favorite sister and confidant before she fell into madness for loving a man so foolish as herself._

_Elizabeth even if I am afraid to say it, for I know Mary will grow hateful of my words, is the exact image of me when my mother first took me to the battlefields of Granada to see our armies defeat the Mores. Elizabeth, the irony that she has the English name Elizabeth, and the fighting spirit of a warrior, marked for a great destiny when my mother too bared the same name._

* * *

**(1533) March 11th**

**Hatfield:**

**Princess of Wales' Household **

Margaret was once again playing with her beautiful niece, Elizabeth. Today she had been very tired, but she gladly came to attend the young Princess before Lady Brian (a new prospect Henry planned to put for his daughter once Meg was married) could come and throw a fit of all the mess the girl had caused.

She really didn't see any reason why people were always throwing fits for children.

They were innocent after all they did or said, and a trained Governess-to-be as Bryan was; she was supposed to have this knowledge and not be strict with the poor girl. Elizabeth might be pampered as long as she was in favor with the King, her father, but Bryan would always be a careful and strict Governess, in favour or not.

And that was what worried Margaret, that she would never see Elizabeth again and that she, her little Princess would be at the mercy of strictness and rules when she barely could differentiate one rule from the other.

It was not fair.

She settled Elizabeth that was playfully snuggling from under her arms, on the ground where she quietly handed her a porcelain doll, that once belonged to her daughter Mary.

Elizabeth hungrily grabbed the doll and almost immediately she began to wash her doll in a sea of red roses, that were surrounding the garden of the little girl's Household.

"My dolly ... mama ... pleases ... Mama w-will web pleased." Elizabeth said with excitement.

After she finished decorating her porcelain doll she showed it to Meg. The girl had such force that it was almost tossed to Meg's face. Meg smiled and carefully inspected the doll to see if Elizabeth hadn't put any dangerous roses on it, thankfully she hadn't and gave it back to the little girl to play.

Elizabeth continued playing with the doll, hanging it in the air simulating she was flying, but as she started to make babbling noises and words she noticed her Aunt was crying, and she slowly went over to Meg to wipe her tears.

Meg smiled at the girl's futile attempt, she touched Elizabeth's hand to say everything was alright, but cunning as the girl was; she didn't buy it and continued to wipe away her tears until she saw too many and instead she hugged her aunt with her arms around her neck.

Elizabeth being only a child, did not understood very well why was her Aunt crying on such a special day when they should be playing and laughing like they always were. She kept her little arms wrapped around her Aunt Margaret's neck; the little girl impatient that she was not being given an answer as to why she cried, boldly asked her Aunt in an innocent voice.

"Why are you cwying ... Me-eg not h-hap-py? Ub n-not hap-py?" Elizabeth inquired. Her aunt whose face was brought up in surprise at the girl's boldness, slowly and very carefully grabbed Elizabeth's little arms with her hands; both now stood face to face at the same level. Her niece continued to stare at her with her penetrating chocolate eyes; eyes that were the famous trademark of the More Family, from her father's side.

She regained her composure and tried as hard as she could at the moment, to appear strong to the little girl, who she didn't want to make sad or miserable when she gives her the news that they would soon have to walk each in different paths.

"Elizabeth ... " She struggled to say the next words, but she knew that she had to be strong; for her. "Honey I am not sad, but soon I ... we will have to part Elizabeth. No honey hush hush ... Shh! Don't cry ... " She gently wiped away Elizabeth's tear drops. "Honey it is not a good bye." The girl's face lit up at her Aunt's words.

But then Meg sighed and Elizabeth who wore a happy face, instantly wore out as she heard the sigh from Meg. "Honey we knew this would come ... It is meant to be, I have my own life and soon you will have yours little Bess, we are all part of the lines that God draws from off ... You may not understand now Bessie; but soon your destiny will call on you and whether you like it or not, you will have to face it alone, that is the order of all things. Just promise me you will be strong, all right?"

Elizabeth nodded her head and said a small 'yes'.

Margaret no longer able contain her sadness,grabbed Elizabeth and cried as she held the little girl in her arms. The little girl that was Elizabeth could not really comprehend the situation very well; she was to small to understand the forces that were behind her Aunt's sadness. Even her own words she didn't understand. But nonetheless, every detail of those words she kept them to mind, vowing never to forget them as she swung her arms over her aunt's neck protectively to prevent any harm coming to her.

Aunt and niece kept struggling with themselves against pulling away. Even if she was a little girl, Elizabeth was no naive fool; at some point she knew Meg would have to pull away from her and say goodbye. But she didn't want to so they both remained together in their embrace, for as long as they could.

* * *

**March 11th.**

**Hampton Court Palace**

Henry was slowly congratulating his Noble men and Council for the latest Progress on their Reformation.

If everything was going as planned, then in the coming months the King would be receiving large quantities of the Treasury they had commissioned to be taken from the monasteries, and be transferredto him to be later used by his own hands, and be spent as much as he desired, with no limits or restrictions from Parliament that they could stop him to do from what he wished. He was fully King this time, and as he declared the night before March; he was Head of the English Church and the Pope in Rome had no authority over him and what he wished to do in his matters of State.

"Let the Pope rule his own House, and I will rule mine" He had said previously as Parliament had granted him absolute Power, he was now a fully functional King without the help of Parliament to do as he wished, and he would answer to no one but God. Nobody could judge the King of England but God, Anne had said this to him once and he believed it to the full extent.

Had it not been for Anne, he would still be at the mercy of the Pope, his mother, and the Catholic Church to do with him and pamper him as they wished and later persuade him as a form of favors, because the was how they viewed the world in favors, to give them a big percentage of his monaesteries' Treasury and also his own. Well now Henry calmly told himself that he answered to nobody but himself and God. Now it was as Anne, his _May Queen_ had said; Total Monarchy and neither his father, her or his mother could do anything to stop it.

Henry was in power and as Master Cromwell intelligently said to Henry. He would become much to the envy of the other Princes of Christendom; the richest King and Prince in all Europe.

The King broke away from his thoughts as he dismissed all of his people from his conference room, except one; the Duke Locksley who wore a proud and arrogant smile on his face.

George Locksley who owned the new Locksley lands, close to the borders between England and Scotland bowed his head in respect for his King. "Your Majesty" He said humbly.

The King smiled as his subject showed him respect. "Locksley, I want you to promise me that when you marry the Lady Margaret, treat her with ... _care _and remember." He said in a low voice grabbing Locksley by the shoulder as he whispered to his left ear. " ... If you have any problems with her father, the ex-Chancellor. Tell me so **immediately** and I will promise that if you serve me correctly Duke, you and your wife can live within your domains peacefully for the rest of your days."

George smiled at the King's last words, knowing exactly what they meant. And being the cunning man that he was; he knew that he was to thread a fine line with the new bride he would be acquiring soon, he did not need no dowry for the King had been gracious enough to provide him with that, but he did expect the King to follow his word keep his future bride at ease and where she needed to be, at home.

He desired nothing more than to see Margaret, his half sister walking down the aisle and face her new life alone in solitude with no help from her father or her sisters. It was a shame if the Duke did not like her little brats from her previous marriage, but it was a sacrifice he regretted he would have to do to make his sister be punished for being lucky and receiving all those gifts that had been denied to him and Elizabeth for so long.

The Duke continued to smile as he pictured his bride, he was told how beautiful the lady was, and how fertile too she still was, so in his mind there was no problem for her when the time would come for both of them to make children, children whom he hoped would be all boys, or girls whom could help him in his future plans for acquiring lands and titles.

* * *

**A/N**:

_I know short chapter compared to the others lol, but I wanted to focus on Meg and the relationship as well as the pain (Sad I know, I had such a hard time doing it, almost cried) of having to say goodbye to her beautiful niece, Elizabeth is only two years and a half almost but she is very smart and even if she cannot comprehend yet, she knows she might see her Aunt again._

_Between George of Locksley and Henry VIII, they have in common the belief that they need a male child to carry on their inheritance and of vital importance for their last name and "dynasty" (Especially For Henry) to survive. The difference is that George Locksley sees girl more as an advantage in certain cases and here is where he like many Courtiers of his time, is capable of selling his soul or his own daughter's (as he thought, if that is the only result by his and Margaret's marriage) to the devil or to some ruthless maniac just for the sake of Power and lands._


	7. Fighting Ground

**A/N**

**Me and Princessanna want to thank all of our reviewers. There are more surprises and intense ones as really tragic, some happy moments, ahead, but I kid you not, the story will take huge turns and two of our favorite characters will finally face their hardest moments yet at the hands of the man who is their own flesh and love, the man they swore to protect and almost sold themselves to.**

* * *

**_Chapter 7_ Fighting Ground.**

_"Train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose." _- Master Yoda. **Star Wars Revenge of** **The Sith (2005)**

**--**

**1533, March 12th**

**Chelsea State More Household.**

Margaret that day of the 11th, returned to her home at Chelsea where her parents were patiently waiting for her the next day when she arrived at midnight; it was hard for them as well but somehow they managed.

Thomas hugged his daughter as hard as he could, he had no intention to let his eldest and favorite child go, but he had no choice; Henry had made his decision for them and she was off to marry some prick who would never treat her with the dignity she deserved. William had be a kind husband and family member to them; Thomas had quite liked the boy, he was a rebel and a scholar as well as the son of a lawyer like Meg, but as all husbands he had his good and bad points too. One of them, was that he had been what Thomas called back at the time a _heretic_then he became Catholic, but William to Thomas' judgement was never truly Catholic, he was more of a rebel humanist or deist, those who believe in the all mighty but want no attachments to religion. Nonetheless; Thomas liked him.

He had been a good husband to his daughter and Meg loved him dearly, that after all these past years, she still hadn't managed to forget him. The pain that his own was causing to them, was too much to bare for Thomas. (_**His** own son**!**_) His blood. The boy he loved more than John and Elizabeth, the boy he always craved to raise was now hurting him more than any mortal weapon or man on this Earth ever could.

"Husband." His wife said, interrupting Thomas from his thoughts. She motioned for him to move closer to his daughter who was on the verge of tears. It had been all too much for her, to come to her old home where she grew up, and then to have to wait until her new husband would pick her up and ask for her father's blessing.

A blessing Thomas knew he could not reject, his safety as his family's depended on it.

Thomas moved closer to where Meg was, he hugged her and thankfully that stopped Meg from crying, like it always had when she was little and Alice was nowhere to be found. He remained close to his daughter in their embrace for a long time until he pulled away to suggest her that it would be better if they walked together on the gardens. Alice moved away from them both and went into her bedroom to continue with her sewing.

On the woods Thomas and Margaret walked peacefully chatting about the every-day things of their lives, there was hardly any talk of Henry, George or her dead husband William, all they talked about was themselves and their lives so far excluding all the negative details.

Margaret as she walked alongside her father looked at him. His hair started to have some shades of grey, it was not as black and brilliant as it once had been, even last year she still remembered it being black and shiny.

"Margaret" Her father said and they stopped walking as he gently grabbed both of her arms to face him directly. "I have never discussed the fact of martyrdom with you ... and I think we should do it now darling."

His daughter Margaret hesitated and wanted to turn away, she fidgeted under her father's strong hold. She said "No" several times but her father with his calm voice managed to soothe her to remain still in his loving arms. "Margaret we cannot avoid it. I might have to suffer the sacrifice that Henry wants against me. I know he may seem at times like a man who lacks morals and convictions ... but darling he is a **good** man and I don't doubt that what is happening right now in the Country is not his fault, but the men who council him."

Meg saw in his father's eyes the truth of his words and she knew deep inside as he did, that he did not believe in any of them as he spoke, but nonetheless; he said them because his love for his son even after all he did, was too great. It surprised that after all her half brother had done to her family, her father still found it in his heart to forgive him. He was a great man to do that, but she often wondered; if he wasn't foolish enough for doing that.

What Henry wanted against Thomas and Meg, she knew, was to push them both through the mud as he had been doing lately with his mother, the Lady Princess Dowager, and that was something the Lady More would never allow Henry to do. To be pushed through the mud just for his own morbid satisfaction, she didn't care what her father said or did; Henry was a bad man and somebody who lacked morals and respect for others, even her father did not believe the words he said about his own first born.

Thomas shook his head and kiss his daughter's forehead. "Sweetheart please promise me you will be good to your brother, he is not a bad man. I may not believe my words, but I believe the man I want my son to be."

His daughter nodded his head and then she finally broke down. "Father!" She said and went to hide her head in her father's chest which he gladly took in and hugged her embracing her strongly, as a sign he would never let go of her, no matter what lay ahead in their way.

* * *

**1533, March 14th**

**The More:**

Alice made small arrangementsto travel alone where the Princess Dowager was currently staying at. She did not tell her husband Thomas where she was going and for what, she did not need to. Hardly anytime would Thomas ever ask his wife anything for the fear that often amused her, that she would grow mad with his silly questions and throw her plain talk at him. It was true that she was a plain speaking woman and that she often talked more than she should; but it was because it was in her nature, that was the way she was raised and the way all her ancestors were raised. There hardly anything she or Thomas could do to stop her "outrageous" behavior as Thomas often referred to it in private. But her behavior was not a subject that worried her at the moment, it was the fact that she would be face to face with that woman, that mostly set her unease.

She knew Katherine to be a strong and cold woman, but she also knew that she was a merciful and a skilled diplomat, but that did not mean that she was all sweet and talk like other women. '_Oh no!'-_Alice knew perfectly well how far this woman would go to defend herself, and no matter what Alice would defend herself too, she might not have the power and glamour of Katherine, or the richness and beauty detail on her skin like Anne Boleyn, their _'May Queen'_ did, but she was Alice More. Wife to Thomas More, and a strong and hard woman who would go to any lengths to protect what was hers by right, even if she had to anger her husband and Katherine -his old love- to do so.

Her carriage stopped in front of the old Castle. It looked old and weary but still Alice ventured inside of it, she was greeted by a young maid of Katherine who she said her name was Elizabeth. She calmly told Alice to wait in the entrance room until she could get her Lady's approval for her to see her.

Alice patiently waited. The room was not comfortable and looked as if it hadn't been cleaned in ages, she hardly managed to believe that Katherine was really sent to live here. Did her son not have a small inch of love for his old mother who had done everything in her power for him to sit on the throne he was currently on? She guessed not as she saw the dirty linens and unwashed floors that she was standing on.

--

Lady Elizabeth once a maid of honor and in waiting of Katherine's; was now running through their dirty and old halls to reach her Mistress, the Princess. She opened the doors of where her mistress was currently in.

Katherine her mistress, woke to the sound of the old doors opening, she saw her maid in waiting and faithful servant, Elizabeth Irving. She beckoned her to come in, Elizabeth nodded her head in respect to her, she was one of the few that was still not afraid to bow and show respect to the mother of the King, even if she as well as the others were told by the King's servants and Brandon to not show respect for her, she was a traitor yet to be proved and to show respect to her would be treason. But still, Elizabeth did it out of the goodness and conviction of her heart that the Lady she was serving was just a woman fighting for her land and hear to be free, and fighting to be loved and restore both of her granddaughters in her favour. Sadly the King, her own son, flesh and blood, did not see it that way.

Elizabeth raised her voice upon hearing her Mistress' inquiry as to why was her sleep disturbed. She calmly told the Princess answering her by her Royal title, that she had a visit.

Katherine's head perked up with interest, if it was the visit she gladly hoped for like her son, she would gladly receive him; but something told her it was not her son, and the visit that was waiting outside in the living room was somebody she least expected. "Who?" She asked.

"Is it Chapuys?"

"No."

"Then who?" Katherine insisted.

Elizabeth bowed her head in shame, scared to answer, but looking at the calm and tender face of her Mistress gave her confidence to go ahead and talk to her. "She hardly said anything Princess, she only said that her last name was More."

"More?"

"Yes your Grace." She assured her.

Katherine stood up from her bed and quickly grabbed one of her Royal Gowns and dressed rapidly. In normal circumstances this would have taken long, but these were not normal circumstances and the guest she was expecting -if it was who she feared- was sure to give her hell for the rest of the day.

"Let her come in. And leave us." Katherine said finally.

Elizabeth nodded and went out to get Lady More. Katherine sat down in her bed, patiently waiting for the woman to come.

She figured that the women who had fought so hard for Thomas' heart were finally going to confront each other in their own battlefield. It seemed Lady Alice had already picked her arena.

* * *

**A/N**

_Hoped you like it. And to all of my reviewers and readers too you know the drill lol_

_Next chapter will be more intense, and who out of these two women will win?_


	8. The Reckoning

**A/N**

**Thanks to all of my reviewers and readers.  
****R/R, remember your reviews keep me up and Princess Anna going, the more I have, the faster I can update and the more encouraged I and my co author Anna feel.**

Review!

* * *

**Chapter 8 The Reckoning:**

_"To jaw-jaw is better than to war-war." -_ Winston Churchill, **_The New York Times_** (1954)

--

Alice was led inside by Katherine's maid of honour to the Princess' chambers. It was time both reckoned their time for a score to settle. Alice was forced to visit the Princess because she finally wanted to make things clear to her, that she would not stand by and watch her husband be swept away by this woman.

She needed to make this clear once and for all, to the Princess.

Katherine who was on the other side of her quarters respectively, knew _what_ and who had come, and why. Alice was ready to face this woman who was not by any standards a fool, she was afraid and she was a human like Katherine, and like Katherine she had a fighting spirit that was not ready to go down that easily.

The woman had declared her war the minute she laid in bed with **her **husband, well no more! Alice was ready to reclaim what was hers by right, Katherine lost Thomas and that was the reality that Alice miserably clung to so she could be at peace with Thomas and his family. She was not ready to give it all away to this woman, who had been away from Thomas for more than 30 years, she was the rightful wife, the one who stayed and loved him through and through, not her, not Katherine, the Princess who ran away and got the Prince and risked her heart over ambition, and a throne over her own son's Regency.

She was not that kind of woman, she came from a well off family, but it was a family that toughened up Alice against the hardships of life.

And this is was one hardship she was not willing to tolerate anymore, not as long as she and Thomas lived together.

The doors finally opened and the Princess Dowager dressed in an over coat that covered most of her body, greeted her with kind words.

"Lady Alice. What a surprise that you come here to visit me."

"Tell me Lady More, what can I help?" The Princess offered kindly with her head held up high. Like a true Princess and Regent, prepared for battle.

Alice did not nod or bow her respect to her Princess as she should, not only because it was forbidden by the King himself, but because Alice had nothing to bow to.

"I come here to make things clear Princess. Stay away from Thomas ... He is mine you lost your chance." She said bluntly, much to her surprise the Princess did not flinch or quiver at her voice, on the contrary it was to be expected from Katherine's part that she knew before hand of Alice's demeanor towards her.

"I see." She finally said after a pregnant pause followed Alice's statement. Katherine was ready to combat Alice on the battleground she chose. And it seemed to her, that she chose her own ground to fight. The truth was that Alice loved More, and Katherine did too. But in war there could only be one victor, so far Katherine had the upper hand but she could not forget that it could easily change, after all it was Alice who was married to More, not her.

Katherine moved closer to the woman, being at the same level of each others distance, they now had their verbal weapons ready to fight each other in the next discussion, as for whom it would take more toll on; that was yet to be decided. But the Princess Dowager and former Regent of her son knew that she would not go down without a fight, and a fight was what Alice had been preparing for all this long.

To combat the woman who had stolen her husband's heart and made her vulnerable to penetrate the surface of it.

"I am sorry if I seem blunt Princess. " Lady More said harshly. "But you must know that **he** is a married man, not yours. Whatever you had in the beginning, is over and finished and it is to late now to rekindle that passion you call ... He is mine Katherine, accept that."

The Princess sighed but pulled one of her best faces to her. It was one of neutrality and coldness. "Lady More I don't know what makes you say that, but I do not choose what to say or not in the heart, he was my husband too once ... and whether you like it or not, we share a bond through a son!" She yelled.

Alice did not flinch. "A son that has put you in prison, and is planning to tare away my family, a family I care for deeply, even if they do not share the power your son has through his new wife."

"How dare you!"

"Oh I do dare!" (...) "He is my husband Katherine! I want him for me and you cannot call me selfish ... _your grace._" She said with a mock bow she gave to _her grace_.

Katherine was fuming inside but being a skilled and avid politician, made her refrain herself from engaging in the verbal fight that Lady Alice More wanted. Instead, she bowed her head again to the Lady Alice and patiently told her with a sweet yet sarcastic voice.  
"Lady Alice ... Alice, I assure you that Thomas and me only have talked and if you do not believe that, then you are a much wiser person _(laughs_) than I thought. Thomas and me yes we had a passionate night over a month ago, and I know you saw us because my Lady Elizabeth told me you came, she had to take you out. I wonder why you did not say anything? You could have easily done and denounce me as a whore, but instead you watched, why? Is it because you knew and pictured yourself to be me? Or is it because you knew Lady More that you had no chance, oh yes I have been you and I have been scared too ... Do not pretend that you know me, you have never seen me in armor or see me battle many armies for my son. You only see me the way my former Lady Anne sees me, a half _plump_, now _half thin_ _old_ Lady who cannot do anything! Well not anymore Lady More." She yelled scaring the poor petrified form of Alice More.

Alice More was trembling from the inside and one did not have to an excellent judge of character too see her scared and afraid in front of the Spanish Princess. "You cannot have him. I will see to that. I win this battle my Lady, whether you like it or not."

"Fine _(laughs)_ you win the battle Lady More. But in the war neither you or I will win, it will be my son for as my _former husband_ once said : _If the lion knows his own strength than no man can control him._ " Katherine said. She raised her voice calling for her friend and confidant, the maid of honour Elizabeth, to humbly escort as it were Katherine's words, the Lady More outside and return her to her carriage.

In the end when it seemed to Alice that she - the woman Katherine- had the last laugh, Katherine new better, nobody had. Neither would, it was the plan that Henry had devised against them to settle one wife against the other. And while her son, was smart and deviant to do such things, she knew that everything that Henry planned was soon to have a flaw, and that flaw would one day in the future be the end of him.

* * *

**(1533)**

**April 1st.**

The day had finally come, Thomas was fearful that it would come, but it had finally come. That wretched man of Locksley would wed his girl, the child he bore and raised with his blood and sweat, the same girl who had won his heart so many times, sometimes even above his own son the King. Now she was to be married in a ceremony to an arrogant prick who would never know how to appreciate Margaret. Thomas thought it was so unfair of life that they should be the ones sent to the slaughter while others in clothing of sheep lay at the peak of power, one of them his own daughter Elizabeth.

He sighed as he thought about Elizabeth, she seemed such a remarkable prostpect at the time her natural mother lived, always happy and quiet when she played with Margaret. Then her mother died, he married Alice, she became all the opposite of what she once was, by any standards she became close to a monster; a monster that fed on the angst of others while she rejoiced in carnal pleasure with her brother. It was all too disgusting for him to assimilate that his daughter had done this. But she had and now she was on his house, at Chelsea after Alice saw it fit that they forgive her.

He couldn't come to terms to forgive that girl. He had been caused to much pain by her, and besides if Anne, his son's wife ever knew that Elizabeth was carrying a child of her husband then there was surely hell to be expected from her, Anne was not an easy woman to get by with her husband cheating, much like Isabella she was very paranoid; except Anne did it more publicly while Isabella did it in private and yielded to her husband in public.

Thomas sighed once again as he was brought into attention by his loving wife, Alice. He and Alice were having many problems lately, she often chastised him on the fact that he was writing against Henry his own son and his _new_ways, as well as the dissolution of the monasteries which he even said publicly he did not approve.

He saw his daughter miserably walking on the altar, she was all dressed in white with yellow clothing, the color supposed to represent happiness, but Meg was not happy, neither was he. Both knew that this Locksley, a Duke of great fortune would not treat with any respect, nor her children by Roper, he would use them for advantage and her as well to begot a son from her fertile womb. Thomas feared for the little child that Meg might bore in the future, he or she did not deserve any of this, it was just too much.

The witnesses of the wedding were none other than his wayward son and his wife, Anne Boleyn, their _'May Queen'_who she too was looking miserably at Margaret, trying to give the girl her best smiles, but she failed and Meg had to keep herself from crying in front of all the guests.

Was this all worth it? Had he and Katherine remain together ... would Henry had turn differently than what he is now? '_Would he ... be different?'_

They were all wonders and illusions, Thomas could not have known the _**what if's**_ of many possible variants, if him and Katherine had done things differently. He wanted to go and visit her, but his wife whom had known all of their little _sleep overs_ would not let him, and he shamefully knew it was in her right not to let him, he had shamed himself with Katherine and hurt Alice in the most awful way. Sometimes he was no better than Henry.

--

Margaret who was next to her soon to be husband, was fearful, her two wonderful children of Mary and Anthony Roper stood next to the Queen watching their mother. Mary's eyes were as ever clever, but Anthony's were full of hatred and disappointment, that his mother was marrying somebody else too quickly after his father's death.

Margaret wished they could understand, she knew that Mary would someday but Anthony on the other hand was to naive and sometimes too reproachful like her grandfather to ever forget an offense like this. Their mother looked at them expectantly, hoping that they could smile and reassure her that they would be happy for her sake, but she received not one smile from them. From Mary she received a cold stare and from Anthony; his hatred did not change. She feared that part of that boy's resentment against her was because she had to spent too much time taking care of Elizabeth than tending to her own children. Anthony after the death of William had changed drastically, her little boy was no longer the cheerful and sweet little child that she remembered; he was now a cold, mean and often bad mouth person to everybody who stepped in his way.

She having a new husband like the Duke of Locksley did not help at all, it made matters even worse, now she was certain that Anthony would never forgive her.

Margaret Roper nee More looked behind her at her father who did the best to give her one of his many reassuring smiles to her. She smiled meekly back at him, it was like magic that she felt now a little better. The Duke who was next to her, finished his bows followed by her own, after that the Archbishop Cranmer who by order of the King himself was presiding the ceremony; declared them man and wife.

"You can kiss the Bride Duke." He said and the Duke moved slowly to kiss, at first it did seem like a tender kiss, one free of passion and lust but for those who were looking closely like the _May Queen_ Anne, her husband and her children standing in front of the newly married couple; they could see their kiss was one of hunger and ambition for something else.

This man wanted children, he already had a clear mind what he needed to expect, the Duke would make sure as he made plans secretly, that his wife would soon know her place.

* * *

**(1533) April 13th.**

**Hatfield.**

Anne Boleyn, the Queen of England and Sovereign Lady Consort of Ireland lay playing with her child Elizabeth. She had never had a greater time than when she was with her daughter.

Sometimes she wondered if the people of England would ever accept Elizabeth before Mary, she guessed not dryly. Isabella although judged as a raving lunatic like her mother; was still loved by many, even some Courtiers who despised the Church had loved her for all the favours and contributions she did to them, having her replaced and especially now that she was declared a pretender to the throne of England and her daughter her bastard and not Henry's. Anne had seen the anger of many people after she had walked out of Meg's wedding, many of the yeomen and country men wanted to get close to Anne and snap her neck, the wedding that was supposed to be a celebration of happiness almost ended in a mess of dead bodies as Henry had to call of his army guards to secure the couple and all of their guests, including the newlyweds.

The Queen of England who was supposed to be calm and reserved to any pain, slowly suffered pains day and night as she thought of the stress that the people and the Pope were putting her through.

She only hoped that the awful Lady Mary would never harm her child Elizabeth, Anne was grateful that the former teen Princess was away at the More Household when she received the news from her father ( Boleyn Patriarch ) that many were moving against her, but that thankfully the King had sent Mary beforehand to visit the Mores and be with her grandfather. Anne loved the idea that the teenage girl of Isabella stayed as far away from Elizabeth as possible. It was no secret that Mary had made public her distaste for Anne and that she once said that she was glad to have had Anne as the mother of an heir who was a child, and hoped she would be dead before they could do any damage to her person.  
Anne knew all of this could be fabricated, but thinking of Isabella brought her back all the humiliations and horrible jests that woman had done against her when they were children, and those offenses were something Anne would never forget. Seeing Mary's hatred at Court towards her was something that reminded her often of Isabella and ... _Katherine_.

The Queen of England would do everything to protect her young, as she saw Elizabeth playing and saying to herself she was Queen, Anne smiled and pulled her daughter into an embrace. Her daughter's white dress was not stained even though she had fallen on the mud, so as Anne told herself that would be her reputation. It would not be stained. And she would not let no one ... '_No one!' -(_She thought)- Steal her daughter's position to the throne.

It was something Anne would protect with her very life, for herself, her position and most importantly it would be for her worldly jewel, her daughter.

**_'Elizabeth' -_**Who represented all the good and purity that could still exist in this world of madness.

She was grateful as she mentally prayed to God, that Mary had been staying at the More's. Henry was _merciful_ enough, along with her own manipulations, that she should be better suited at staying with her grandfather and away from Court, and from the **true _Princess_**.

Mary would forever stay with her grandfather where she belonged, away from the line _of succession_ and from any harm that could come to her, or vice verse of the harm she could cause Elizabeth, her _half sister_.

Anne knew that she and Henry now had enemies greater than they could imagine.

But as Anne looked once again at her child's innocent face which was the blueprint of purity; she convinced herself that it was all worth it so Elizabeth could be Queen one day.

* * *

**A/N:**

Great Chapter for u ... **PrincessAnna** says _"Gracias a todos y les daremos todavia mas intensidad y una sorpresa que los dejara cuestionando el amor que le tienen a sus personajes queridos, no solo thomas y kat."_

Translation: _Thanks to all and we will give you even more intensity and a surprise that will leave you questioning the love you have to your most dear characters, not just Kat and Thomas!  
_From me, **DarkVampireWitch: **I say Enjoy and hoped you enjoyed these two chapters, and yes we will have not only surprised but great suspense and here is where deaths and deceptions will begin.  
Be prepared.

And you know the drill guys/girls! Review!! You want to see more chapters, read/ review!!


	9. Illusions

**A/N:**

This will contain harder adult themes. Don't like don't read, I warn you will be hard and a lot of things like love, hatred as well as God's existence and the Church will be put into question.

_(And yes I do admire JFK, as you see, haha lol)_

Here you go, courtesy of me and my coauthor PrincessAnna:

* * *

**_Chapter 9_:** **"Illusions"**

**"When power leads men towards arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the areas of man's concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of his existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses" - **JFK,_ Speech at Amherst College, Amherst_ (October 26th, 1963)

--

I don't know what is worse. To be betrayed by your family or to betray yourself. I guess in the end it does not matter anymore.

The rain drops from the place I was staying at started to bother me. The men who promised me and my husband John, to clean up and fix this mess had cheated us of our money once again. It was not fair. While my father was enjoying his stay with his precious little Meg at her wedding, I was forced to stay here with a good-for-nothing-husband, practically living in penury.

Anne another thorn to my spine; she had won over Meg and all the Country with her false smiles, she was just like the King's mother, they all were. They pretended to love the people and be loyal to their husbands, but from the inside they were just as ugly as every human being on the face of Christendom.

I dropped a small cross that I was praying on, it belonged once to my father, the ex-Chancellor Sir Thomas More, I hated that he could not be here with me, and Meg; even though she always bothers me with her perfect attitude, I still miss her. I cannot believe they did not let me attend her wedding, I would have behaved and caused no mayhem there, but dear _father_ saw it fit for me to remain alongside my husband.

_'How I hate him_.'- I think with passion how he always does this to me; casting me aside, and leaving me for that awful sister of mine, little Miss Chastity, Meg Roper-Locksley nee More, who has always been the shadow and love of my father's heart.

When my mother lived, my true mother and not Alice; I was the favorite one, the one with prospects and future. My father would use to hang me around in his strong arms, then show me off to my mum and say to her that they both had begotten the most beautiful child on Christendom. Sometimes my mother even went further with exaggeration and excitement, and said that I was the most beautiful child in all the world, that my blond hairs like hers shone with the light of the blessing of the Virgin Mary herself.

It was pure extasy, we were all happy, and me and Meg were best friends. But it all changed when my mother died. My father became farther and farther away from me, and turned his attentions to Meg.

My brows tensed as well as my body as I felt a kick coming from my belly. I reached my hand for my stomach, and I could feel the life inside of me, a life that was growing and nurturing from the inside of my womb. The more I heard kicks from the creature that inhabited me, the more I knew that God had sent me a blessing in disguise through my half brother, Henry. The passionate Henry VIII who like me was always misunderstood by father.

My father never really took care of his children, he thought he did, but he never did. The only good memories I have of that man is when my mother lived, Joanne, with her beauty and smiles she would always soothe my father and his favor would always be found in me, not Meg. Back at that time; he also forgot about his lost son Henry. When John, the last surviving son my mother ever bore to him, came into the world; my father forgot about the King, his works, Katherine and his writing. He dedicated half of his life to us, his new and true family.

I have always seen John as a weakling, nonetheless; he was a great company when nobody was there for me, when Alice came and took our father by surprise. I don't have anything against Alice, she was a good woman, but lately my parent's troubled marriage has left scars on all of us. Alice will not let him go, and Thomas will not let go Katherine, and there in lies the question, of who will give up who first.

Whether it's my father giving up his_ old_ love for Katherine; or my mother Alice giving up her true love of Thomas, my father, it really is a question that has no answer or end to it.

I picked up my cross and watched it, the only reminder I have of my father. He has made no attempt to visit me, when I went into his home he saw me, but that was it, there were no hello attempts or warm welcoming. Alice just led me to a small guest room, then they told me both they were going to see Meg's wedding and that I was to stay at Chelsea for the remainder of my visit, before I came they expected me to leave, especially my father.

My bags and chests containing all the clothing that I was supposed to bring to stay at my father's place; were all neatly packed. He did not want me there, and Alice as long as she could be with her husband, didn't want me there either. I left and returned to my bitter home with John. He barely noticed me, he was always to enthralled in his day dreaming, much like my father, that he hardly payed any attention to me or the children.

When the child inside me would be born, Anne, my former _ugly _Mistress; was sure to snap out of her patience -('_if she had any_' I thought wryly)- and send all of her family dogs after me and my child, the only security I had was that my brother Henry would hear my plight and ignore his crazy wife's rantings, to help me through this ordeal and perhaps give my baby a royal name and title to survive in this cruel world that his or her parents lived in.

* * *

**1533**

**May 13th, Richmond Palace.**

Anne was in the waiting room. After many hours and moments of pain, she had finally delivered England's hope, a healthy baby boy. Anne couldn't be happier.

She finally had the future of England in her hands, and not only that; but also the salvation that would secure her position along with Elizabeth's. Now Henry had no reason to deny her, or deny their daughter's future cravings and desires, they now had an heir for England's throne, Henry's much desired-for-boy.

After so much exhaustion, Linacre, the Royal Physician had told Anne and the midwives that it was best to let her rest and leave her in peace. She sighed in relief as she felt all of the people in the birth room leave her.

--

**1533, May 14th.**

**Richmond Palace, King's Quarters.**

To say that the King was happy was falling short of words. The King was not only in living ecstasy, he was filled with joy and a sense of greatness as he held his newborn **son** in his hands. He was so beautiful, and he was Henry's.

The King laughed with joy and madness as he screamed to the heavens and to God that he finally had a son. As if feeling that God had answered his outburst he turned to Cromwell who smiled at his King's happiness, and Henry, gave the baby to one of the midwives to take care of him.

Chancellor Cromwell, now his most trusted advisor and right hand to his Kingdom, knew that the King's position and his dynasty were now secure and safe, to continue with the Reformation and rid England of the Papist threat that had ravaged England for many centuries.

The Archbishop Cranmer and Cromwell now stood side by side to the King in all of his biddings, they convinced themselves that it was all for the good of the Country and for the good of the people, (who had been mocked and laughed at by the own Church that claimed their salvation by the Pope, a bishop foreign to their worries who made himself richer with every tax he imposed to his Catholic dominions, while leaving the poor people to wallow in their missery), and this was what both men were trying to protect in the end, the people. Whose salvation through the blood of Christ laid not in the Pope or the Churches built by men, but by believing in only in God and in Jesus Christ. Cranmer fully grew up with this belief that like Luther, God should be a force reacheble to all men, not just those who preached in His Name.

Cromwell; on the other hand, thought differently, he viewed the importance of having Lutheran beliefs within the old Church, but did not necesarily see it fit like his fellow Cranmer, to abolish all canon law and immediately replace it with Luther's. People needed their symbols, because more than just images they represented an ideal, something that could never fail to inspire people to be better and strive for greatness.

Yet their beliefs in the end were just that, beleifs. None of them were King or Pope to decide what they would do to England. That lay in the hands of politicians and the King himself, who at this moment, the birth of a son left him to the mercy of his new wife, the Queen, and his Counselors.

Henry however; knew he had to take care in every new decission he made, so far he had been succesful in the dissolution of the old monasteries and transfering the riches to him, but his daughter Mary and previos marriage to Isabella had weaken his position considerably to the people. They no longer saw him as the young vibrant King who was so full of promise and joy, instead they now saw him as power hungry tyrant like his grandfather, Henry VII of the Tudors. The King of England and protector to the Tudor Dynasty knew that he had to watch his back carefully now if he ever wanted his Country to be at peace once more. _'Peace'_-Henry thought, seemed more now like an illusion than ever before.

* * *

**More Household:**

**Chelsea State, Kent: England.**

Mary Tudor, once the _Heir Pressumptive_, then _apparent_ to the throne of her father and future Lady of Ireland, now seemed more wallowed in defeat. Since the horrible news when she arrived to the More that she had been bastardized and declared an illegitimate daughter of her mother's (but not her father's), Mary was left with a broken family portrait of her life. It was impossible to think that her father, the man who always loved her and showed her off to all the noble men in the Country now rejected her claiming she wasn't his daughter.

It was the strongest blow Mary could ever receive. And then there was her grandmother, Katherine of Aragon who lay in seclusion and was not allowed to write or visit Mary or any of her grandchildren. For her grandmother Mary knew it was a harsh blow too, but none more harsh than what Mary felt, if it wasn't for her grandfather, her true grandfather - Thomas More- present at the moment that Thomas Boleyn gave her the news, there was no question what she would do. Thomas More, her grandmother's _fling_ and true grandfather, had been a great help for Mary in this past month through the sadness and and the hard nights when she would wake up crying and wailing for her mother or grandmother to come. He was always there for her, him and Alice who she secretly called in private Step Grandmother. The woman was more than happy to abide to Mary's wishes whom she felt obligated to.

Mary was happy at Chelsea, every day discussing with her grandfather about theology, books and God. He had become sort of a theist recently, while she remained ardent to the old ways, she told Thomas that it was the only thing she had left of her mother to remember her by.

* * *

**A/N**:

_Hope you like it. Expect more drama and yes Mary is staying here with Thomas because not only does Anne want her far, but she sees Mary as a threat and being away from Elizabeth is what settles her at ease. Henry however; does not plan to let go of Mary easily._

_As to why did I put JFK's quote like that? Because in other chapters you see a Henry who is hungry for power, arrogant and mallicious, most of the characters we see their darker side taking hold of them. And like Kennedy once said that if power corrupts men - in this case _Henry_ and the characters- poetry or the beauty of life can bring them back from the illusion of their arrogance, that is that healthy baby that Anne bore to Henry brought him closer to his humanity and briefly from his hold on Power that was displaying his arrogance. The same goes for Mary._


	10. On the Edge of The Pendulum

_**A/N:**_

_I hope you enjoy this._

This was very emotional for me to do, not only because I feel a deep connection to the people I admire in my quotes, JFK, RFK, Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, Cesar Chavez, Obama and to others like women I admire like Katherine of Aragon, Anne Boleyn, Hillary Clinton, Jacklyn Kennedy, Carolina Kennedy, Frida Kahlo, Mary Queen of Scots, Mary I, Elizabeth the Great Queen of England who I consider there has been nobody like her Queen Bess and First Elizabeth of England, and Lady Sovereign of Ireland. Lady Jane Grey, Queen Parr the first Protestant Queen. And many other women and men that I have admired for their courage to go on and for their different ideas, radicals or not.

* * *

**On the Edge of The Pendulum**

_"You receive on what you give"_-Nightwish, **_Amaranth_** (2007)

**1533**

**September 24th.**

**Dauncey States: Newly Acquired Property**

_"Baptised with a perfect name_

_The doubting one by heart,_

_Alone without herself ..."_

"_My bel __accident_." Elizabeth whispered in french as she felt herself growing warm at the small body that lay in her loving arms. It was the body of her son, hers and Henry's, her brother.

_

* * *

_

**1533, September 24th.**

**Locksley States. East of Richmond.**

Mary Roper-More, eldest child and daughter of Margaret Locksley-Roper, daughter of the most famous man on England, perhaps greater and more famous than the King of England himself; Thomas More, lay now in a puddle of anger that overwhelmed her as she saw the Queen of England, that formidable lady, Anne Boleyn, enter her room with her most famous fashion. A mixture of Belgium, French and English fashion combined in one outstanding dress that marked her thinness and Royal figure that many called it out to be like that of a muse, women so beautiful and gifted with the talents of the arts and intelligence, that only existed in Homer's Iliad and other pagan myths.  
Her mother always said not to believe in such myths. That it was dangerous to live in a world of fairy tales, because in the end fairy tales were dangerous; because they were not true. And often they idolized people into making them larger than life, and by doing that, they divided the world in black and white; making the Catholic Church and everyone they said to be _'__evil'_ into something that was necessary to be destroyed, while they excused the_ "good" _guys, making everything they did, even if terrible; excusable to the eyes of the people and the law just because they did not fall in the group of **evils**, therefore; they had to be _good_.

Anne with her marvelous grace walked towards Mary. Mary, watched her glance at her, she looked away trying not to look at the Queen. She felt that it was like a sin gazing at something so beautiful, so jovial, something that could only exist in fairy tales. Anne standing in front of the timid girl, calmly took her in the arms and raised her to sit by the bed, where she sat next to her.

"Mary" -She said. Mary turned to look at her for the first time face to face.

Anne sighed and then proceeded to tell the girl the good news regarding her mother. "Mary, you mum said to me that I was to be in charge of your care ... I will take good care of you Mary. I promise."

With that being said Anne took the girl by the arms once again and carefully carried her to where her carriage and servants were patiently waiting for them.

_

* * *

_

**1533, September 25h**

**Locksley States: East Richmond, England.**

**Margaret, daughter of Thomas More**, painfully watched the previous day when the Queen, her former friend, had taken her daughter quietly to her carriage. Margaret had said to herself; that she did not want Mary to grow in such a violent and perverted environment such as this one. The hell she was living was not fit for a girl like Mary, that still retained some of the purity that was innate in all More family members, like her and her two siblings of Cecily and John More.

The new Duchess of Locksley had watched the Royal carriage of the Queen take her only piece of innocence left, away from her; she told Anne that it was necessary for Mary to grow apart from her and Anthony.  
Anthony was a boy she told Anne, and like boys they could handle these type of things, but Mary; she was a girl and could easily be traumatized by the violence that would soon follow in their new Household. She knew deep inside, that Mary would never forgive her mother for giving her away to Anne and some other family, and Meg did not blame her for any hard feelings she might feel. It was natural, Mary had always resented the death of her father, and her mother's marriage to the Duke, it had been for the sole reason that she had not fought back against the tyranny of her brother that had always bothered Mary, and Anthony too.

_"War! ... Between him and the day._

_Need someone to blame,_

Out of her two children, her boy was the one that most hated her. Sometimes when she would spy on the diaries he kept, she saw terrible drawings of her, Mary, the Duke and Anthony holding a knife and pointing it to his mother's swollen belly. It scared Meg that he could be capable of such feelings. He was only five years old, but nonetheless his drawings said otherwise; by the hatred and fury he showed on them, it was clear that the boy was not happy with the new half sibling Meg would be delivering very soon.

She thought now that leaving Anthony alone with her, was a huge mistake.  
Not only for Meg, but for her baby's sake, there was not telling what Anthony was capable of doing when pushed to the limit.

She knew perfectly well that George Locksley neither loved her or her children, but he tolerated them nonetheless; for their marriage's sake, and because he saw in Mary a tremendous ammount of courage that no other man, woman or child living in her situation previously had.

Even if she did not love the handsome Duke; the child that was inside her was completely innocent, of his or her mother's cowardice for not fighting back against the Duke the night he impregnated her, right after their wedding.

Meg sighed as she felt yet another kick from the life-form she carried. She rubbed her stomach tenderly with her left hand, she could feel quick movement as she did it. It was as if the baby sensed her every move.

--

Anthony who was on the other side of his mother's room; stood alone in his stepfather's study messing with his papers. He hardly cared if George came barging in with his temper and hit him, he hardly cared about that anymore. All he wanted was to return to his old life, when his father was still alive and his mother never had to be a coward when facing other men.

She always said no before, she was strong, after all; she was the daughter of the great Thomas More, she was supposed to be strong, not this weak and mousy servant to her new husband.

Why couldn't she be strong for them, for Mary and for Anthony?

Anthony hated that his sister had left them, that his own mother had preferred Mary to be saved over Anthony. Now it was no question that all the taunting that Mary told him at night that she was the favorite; was now true. His mother did not love him, like her father, his grandfather, she loved only the girls and a boy like him who she must have assumed was strong, she abandoned him to his own luck to deal with George.

_"In the end, _

_little he can do alone ..."_

He pulled the papers quickly as he saw the door being opened, but he was too late. George was already there, and was looking furious at Anthony.

"What are you doing here you little brat?" -He said as he picked Anthony up and made him sit hard on one of his spare chairs. Anthony winced at the pain he felt at his bottom. But he did not cry, he told himself that at least **he**, would show his mother that he was not a coward like her.

_"You believe but what you see_

_You receive but what you give ..."_

The man in front of Anthony kept pressing on with the same question, but Anthony however; did not answer him. Instead he laughed at his stepfather's fury, as if feeling he was mocked, George raised his hand and struck the boy hard on his left cheek.

Anthony's eyes filled with tears as he felt the blow. It was the first time that George had ever hit him this hard. The other times he hit Anthony and Mary, it would be with a softer blow, a blow nonetheless; but it was a least a blow that it would hardly leave any scratch or marks on their faces. But this time, George had exceeded himself with Anthony, and it was that power he had now over the boy that made him feel more manly.

--

Margaret who was patiently listening to her husband's yelling at her son, decided to barge in when she heard her son cry. What she looked at, made her regret her decision.  
Anthony's face was marked by a huge blow that left her husband's hand imprinted on it, the boy was not only crying because of the pain where the mark was, but also on the huge amount of blood that escaped his lips. It seemed like George had not noticed her presence as he kept himself busy squeezing her son's shoulders, which was contributing further to the pain Anthony was feeling on his small body.

_"Caress the one, the Never-Fading ..._

_Rain in your heart - the tears of snow-white sorrow ..."_

Deciding that George had gone to far, she made herself noticed as she pushed him away from Anthony. Anthony sighed relieved as he saw his mother, she embraced immediately. Mother and son cried and hugged each others, unaware that their captor was still in the room.

George at being pushed by his wife, felt offended, and he had further felt angrier as he saw Meg pulling Anthony - _the "boy" who had messed all of his important papers, and filled them with ink_- into an embrace. Furious was an overstatement, he was filled with hatred at seeing his wife preferring that brat over him.

_"Caress the one, the hiding Amaranth ..._

_In a land of the daybreak ... "_

He heard as she told him -"_It will all be okay, hush darling, I will take you walking_"- and he knew it was enough, he had to take control once again over the situation. The Duke of one of the most prestigious families in England; would not let himself be taken by a fool, and much less by a woman! He grabbed Meg by the shoulders and then shoved Anthony away with his boots.

"Get out" He told the boy, and instantly he got out of their sights and ran up to his bedroom where he felt he would at least be safe from all the troubles that surrounded him and his mother.

George looking at the locked door, decided he would deal with the boy later, for now he needed to make some things clear to Meg once and for all.

"**Meg**" He said not taking his sight from her. "You are my **wife. Not** my Council, my adviser or the Governess of the boy, **but my wife!** If he needs help let the Governess of this house deal with it, otherwise leave the boy to me. If I ever find you again interrupting my beating of the boy; I swear that by the dirt you are standing on with your dirty shoes; I will send you down to eat it. **Understand?**"

He waited for her answer and to his satisfaction, she nodded her head miserably and sank her sight to the floor where she avoided to look at her Master.

* * *

**1533, ****October 13th. **

**More Household**

**Chelsea State/ Kent.**

_"Apart from the wandering pack ..._

Saying that Thomas was furious would be exaggerating. He was not furious or angry, but he was annoyed. Couple of hours ago he had received a letter from his grandson Anthony; the boy knew how to read and write well but his distorted calligraphy, told him the boy had been in a hurry when he wrote this letter.

Mary who was of a better sight, translated the letter easily to him in plain English.  
She said that he needed to go and help Meg and his grandchild to move away from George, her husband, and bring them here instead.

_"In this brief flight of time we reach ..._

_For the ones who ever dare ... "_

As much as Thomas would have liked that; he patiently told Mary, his eldest granddaughter, that he couldn't, to do that would be suicide. As the King himself, had given explicit orders that he was not to interfere in any part of Meg's marriage, despite the consequences. Mary who was a bit of a radical when it came to helping others, told him that it was his duty as her father and grandfather to help them both.

"Please Grandfather do this! ... **He will kill them if you do not**!"

Thomas' stomach twisted as he thought of all the horrors they might be facing right now, and the future ones too if he didn't act. But how could he act? Henry himself had given explicit orders to the Duke, that if Thomas ever dared lay a finger in their marriage, he would have him cut a head short. Yet, his daughter's marriage was something that concerned him, she was his eldest daughter, and at times like these when Henry was showing himself to be a tyrant over his own family; his worldly jewel. He could not let her go along with this suffering, something had to be done.

Looking at Mary who was watching him expectantly, hoping he could have some plan of action to rescue her Aunt and her little cousin from the evil hands of which her own father had been guilty of placing them.

Thomas brown eyes met piercing blue; he knew what he had to do, and the consequences he could face.

* * *

_"Caress the one, the Never-Fading_

_Rain in your heart - the tears of snow-white sorrow_

_Caress the one, the hiding Amaranth_

_In a land of the daybreak ..."_

Thomas reached the More, the only place where he could find Katherine and talk to her about what was best for him and her to do regarding Meg and his youngest, Elizabeth.

As always; he was received by her maid of honour, Elizabeth. She let him in and he passed in freely, led to see by his own conviction the one time strong Princess, Katherine of Aragon.

_"Caress the one, the Never-Fading_

_Rain in your heart - the tears of snow-white sorrow ..._

As he entered his first wife's apartments he saw her pale face and her stressed eyes, for the first time, she looked older and really worn out, truly her age.  
It was what Thomas feared that might have happened to her if she went to the More.  
All of this just for him, for Henry; the son he and she had cherished and formed into the man he had become. A man that when his face was seen; was one of promise yet also of disappointment and failure. Failure because Thomas knew that he was never meant to be King, Henry was always too emotional, too far light headed to ever take things seriously, even in the absence of a son he still took things carelessly, and so far that had been his downfall, not Anne.

_"Caress the one, the hiding Amaranth._

_In a land of the daybreak_

He bowed his head over to her presence, she nodded to him, and told to him to sit right next to her. Thomas did not argue with her proposal, now it was time they both settled all of their affairs in order, he feared that in few months time; he and Katherine would no longer have their feet on this Earth, and that he would be walking on the condemning steps on the Tower, awaiting his death at the hand by the son he had loved the most.

It saddened him to think that it would all come to that, but the seeds of treachery were already planted in Henry's mind, and they were beginning to sprout with madness that was taking his son's sweet gentle form and transforming him into something else, into a monster.

Thomas took his old wife's hand and kissed it, there was no passion or romantic gesture involved, only pity and Katherine was smart enough to notice that she pulled quickly her hand away from him. He did not say anything but remained neutral to her suffering.

"You come here again! ... you have pity over me, incredible; never in a million years would I have thought you would have pity on me, I would be flattered except I do not want your pity so before you tell me because I know! That you want this over with me because you fear for your wife and your family, tell me now why you have really come."

"Katherine! Be reasonable, you really think that Alice would not find out? She will, and one day when she does she will take it out not only on me, but on you! I have seen you suffer and I cannot stand the pain to see any further suffering, I cannot Katherine. I truly cannot!"

She did not nod, but saw the familiar face of **her first love and Husband! **Trying to do his best to lie to her. Did he really believe that after all that she had faced; Flodden Field, her son rejecting her as his mother calling her a harlot in front of that _former friend _of Anne (his wife now) and then having being yelled at by Thomas' savage wife; all of that she stood for with her head held up high and her figure head still tall, would she really back down after all those victories and strife against her? Did he really think her that stupid?

"I know your wife came and visit me! She was there when we did our _little love_ act. She saw it all"

"She did not tell me ... B-but ... you told her didn't you? It is that what you want?"

"How dare you!" She said almost wanting to get up and slap him right in the face, but the weakness in her body could not force her to move her body even if she wanted. These past weeks of fighting and bleeding literally for her life had been hell for her, especially when there were no doctors, midwives or healers to help her in her condition.

The only help she got was from Elizabeth, but even Katherine had to admit that she did little good in having trust in her Lady. She could not help Katherine, anymore than what Thomas could help himself right now with his own family, including Katherine who was very much a **part of him as she was a part of Henry**. All three family members in thee were connected into one huge circle of mis-happenings and chosen fates.

_"Reaching ... searching, for something untouched,_

_hearing voices of the Never-Fading calling! ..."_

What hurt Katherine the most was not that she could not move her body or being placed in this awful place at the More, no, but it was the fact that the stress and her immobility in her mind and body could not force her to act against the **man she loved**, and against the son she now realized had caused her much pain when she had been the one who had sold her soul to the devil so he could keep his throne, by means of her lie that he was Arthur's son.

_"Caress the one, the Never-Fading_

_Rain in your heart - the tears of snow-white sorrow_

_Caress the one, the hiding Amaranth_

_In a land of the daybreak_

"Katherine ... please, you and I know that soon, very soon our son might discover us and all in which we work for will be ruined. I love Henry, I swore I would never spoke my words to him, but silence and ink are more powerful than words altogether my Lady." -Thomas replied with a cynical smile. But to Princess Katherine, it was not out of cynicism that he replied, for he knew the consequences he would be facing if he continued to write in his _private study_ of the King's many (**_illogical_**) **responses **against the Church, and a form of government _-_that in **Katherine and Thomas'** views_-_was nothing more than another form of anarchy disguised completely as absolutism, by Henry putting himself as the Head of the English Church.

_"Caress the one, the Never-Fading_

_Rain in your heart - the tears of snow-white sorrow_

_Caress the one, the hiding amaranth_

_In a land of the daybreak."_

Down the end of their conversation, Thomas and Katherine considered back to their first marriage. If they had so much as fought then, against all the tide of their evil schemes, her mother and his father, they would have gone out hurt and while Katherine and Henry would be seen as shameful mother and son, with luck; she and him would have lived now with Thomas, and all would have been different. They, who had been so miserable without each other, would have had a normal life, living out in the open of the empty fields of the Country, alone and in peace. But, Thomas thought and he thought hard; that if he had been married to Katherine and go along with their illusion, England would be thrown into civil war for the lack of male issue. She and Henry would be in the middle of it, and Henry VII and his anger would have used both as sacrifices to be the lambs to the slaughter. Innocent and pure, but nonetheless; blood shred by his dirty hands, so he had no choice but to let them live, in their own separate world, building a lie for themselves in a throne so hollow as its King and Princess.

"They blame me for your fall." She said desperately. "All of Parliament does, even if to Henry both of us were guilty of our love ... " -Katherine broke off as she tried to cast aside her son's awful words at her. Thomas knew perfectly well how inconvenient Henry's conscience was to him, if any slight amount of guilt was found within him, it was immediately to be deflected at somebody else. In this case Katherine, had been the one whose blame was deflected at her.

He chafed her hand nestling in his, seeking that he could calm her down withhis soothing words. "Nay Katherine, I swear to you." -He said nestling her hand harder as he spoke. "You are no more guilty of my fall than I am for falling in love with you. Never in Christendom has there been a woman like you, so courageous and brave -the Princess who stood up against the King himself, both he and his son could not destroy your spirit. Neither has your son; you who crushed for him all the armies in the battlefield of Flodden my Lady!"

She did not nod, her face was pain-raw and he felt a sudden insensate urge to shake her and make her see just how great she was, had been and still was, and probably will be upon her imminent return to London, but if she continued to strive in her nagging sense that she would give up for unwarranted fear; then all very well for Thomas and Katherine could already be lost. They both depended on each other and their trust, as their faith and intelligence, to survive this new battlefield layed at their feet by their dualist son's 'new' _Heretic _faith. Thomas More took a more softer tone at her rallying.

"Perfidy! You cannot know how the King is Thomas. He has changed ever since he met that girl, she pretended to be our friend and yet she went behind my back like all of his past _harlots_. Oh! But she was different! She was ... so in my ignorance, a girl of great intelligence, one who promised to be chaste and never to follow a married man, yet her father and our son had a different agenda." -She stated.

His tone becoming more mechanical, and after much more debate between them; Katherine started to notice his staged and rehearsed speech, that she tore her hand from his in an immediate and desperate gesture.

"Between us there is no hypoc-crisy ... I know that you say to me to be better, and that I probably am. But you do not know the hell I passed and the things I had to do. Step over others to achieve myself and my son a secure place in this world, and it now goes all to rot as that _shameful creature_ Anne Boleyn arouses the whole Court and my son with her masquerade."

Thomas grinned sardonically and used once more, his use of charm and softer tones to calm down her rallying.  
"Katherine you can still come the victor, I promised I would be here for you, and I will, you just need more time. I need more time, you will see that in the end when all is lost, a phoenix will come and undo what our son has done on this land. I have seen it in our granddaughter -Elizabeth's- eyes, she bears the name of a great monarch, and like Isabella, your mother -" He paused, smiling at the great Princess before him, holding her hand once more. " - she will make and rule a greater England than any male Henry begotten by Anne or any other."

"I promise" -He finally said.

Katherine did not tear her hand this time, she was sure enough that all he spoke was true, when his daughter Meg had brought her Elizabeth, she was sure enough she had seen the same sturdy gaze and strong eyes her mother always had in her reign as full Queen of Castille and Consort of Spain.  
Katherine joined in his words with a silent laugh that was tied with hope as she asked. "And Mary? Will she be a great Queen too, she is now below Elizabeth my youngest granddaughter. I would not desire they now put sister against sister just for their folly play of power."

"She will. She is yet another great granddaughter and descendant of Isabella and Fernando of Spain, what less is there to expect of greatness?" He responded in yet another mechanical tone that was hidden away by falsely smiles.

In an exasperated gesture, she raised her head up to him and smiled, believing every lie he told. Clinging to every last bit of hope to the man she loved, and the first one she gave herself to said. She knew they were all lies, that Mary had little chance of becoming Queen and if she did; her self pride, and her mistreatment at the hands of Anne Boleyn and her father as well as Protestants, would be too much for her to handle in the long run of perils yet to come for the young, and still-_innocent_ Princess.

His face dropped in defeat at Katherine's ardent hopes that their two granddaughters could one day rule together as one, and bring England into the new dawn of a golden Era. But he as she recognized the importance of keeping Mary safe, and the wisdom she would have to risk to give up in her title, all her claims as 'true' Princess of England, and legitimate daughter to Henry VIII.

Katherine sighed in defeat and spoke vehemently in a tone of resentment. "I have always felt that woman would be my death, or as I have heard that she tells the Court that she would rather see me dead. She will have the last laugh over me once I am gone."

"So you shall fight back Princess, do not let her or our son intimidate your will. You are grander than him, already you were fighting the world and the deception around you at his age." He spread his hands around her face, while drawing her closer he dropped a kiss on her forehead. "Coax them all into thinking you are in defeat, but never submit to their will Katherine. Promise me you will fight."

"Yes." She did not argue or protest any further. She recognized the stringent wisdom in his voice as he reasoned to her their best options.

He put his arms around her neck drawing her closer while they kisses passionately on each others mouth. Neither noticed a silent figure standing motionless in the doorway, ambitious and crazed eyes staring at the old couple.

* * *

A/N

Hope you like it.  
You know the drill from Anna and DVW.


	11. Taketh My Life Away

A/N: Hope u like it.

**Special thanks**: to **Ladyredvelvet** ( "**Triad Dragons**" read that too!)thank you for reviewing again, glad your back in girl!! **LadyJax999** a great supporter too! (Read her awesome story of "**Unexpected love**"!)and to **reganx** (author of story "**On the Edge of A Golden World**." ), and newcomer **boleynofaragon21** who has a cool story "**The Host**", read that too.

The first part is an insight to Alice than the second part is how Katherine feels too as with the whole matter itself in third person point of view...

R/ Review!

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**Taketh my Life Away**

_"The heart that has truly loved never forgets" -_**Thomas More**

--

**(1534)**

Thomas was sitting alone in his study, all the pain that had surrounded this man now seemed obsolete next to his daughter's, who was suffering at the hands of a man who not only did not love her, but he didn't respect her either.

Mary had come crying to him, telling him he better do something; but he calmly told his eldest grandchild Mary, that he couldn't, if he did, Henry would have his head on a spike, his own, that was for sure.  
His granddaughter and beautiful Mary Tudor, first born of his son Henry; stood there enraged and filled with regret as she too could not do anything to help her Aunt. It was no secret that Mary loved and appreciated Meg very much. To read her letters and imagine her sufferings, was all too painful for her, as it was more to Thomas who was left with his arms crossed.

* * *

**1534, February 4th.**

**Chelsea State, Kent.**

Alice More, wife to Sir Thomas More stood alone watching her husband discuss with the now-bastard Mary Tudor; about his daughter and eldest child Meg. The girl was their worldly jewel, even for Alice and to think that she alone in hell with no angel to protect her, was like sending Thomas to hell too. His son -the King- whom he had loved and tended too when little, now stood out as a monster who was slowly devouring her family.

It was impossible to think that a child -fathered by Thomas- who had started out as so pure, and idealistic like her husband, could become the monster he was now. Thomas loved that child with all his strength, he practically gave out everything of the good he had in him for Henry. But still, Henry had slapped him right in the face by bedding one of his youngest daughters, Elizabeth, and then impregnating her! That had surely set Thomas off the wall, Alice still saw him being reluctant to accept Elizabeth back into their family. Even after she had her baby, Thomas would still not yield to his heart.

So what if the girl did one mistake? No matter how much of a sin it was, Elizabeth deserved forgiveness from her father, especially when she was left so alone and her baby so far away, being raised by the King's servants and a Governess appointed to her child, by the King himself. It was all to painful for her to be so far away, and then John Dauncey, the man she was married to, had taken her children away from her, even if Thomas called her to be a whore, or uncaring, she was a mother after all, and Alice knew how it felt for a mother to be away from her children.

But Thomas was so stubborn, and something that his son, Henry and John too, had inherited from him. It seemed that all men in the More Family were born with those characteristics that made them all very stubborn.

It was no wonder Alice had a hard time dealing with all of them.

* * *

**More Household.**

**Dinner-Table**

_"And I give up forever to touch you ... because I know you feel the same_

_You are the closes to heaven that I will eve be,_

_and I don't want to go home right now._

Alice looked at her small step-grandchild, it was Elizabeth's bastard, Thomas. He was brought here on orders from Henry himself to visit the Mores. Thomas unable to refuse had to accept the "welcoming" as the King called it, from his grandson. Refusing would be futile, and Thomas was now in enough troubles since trying to visit his eldest daughter to see how she was, the Duke of course; was a man of many resources and stopped Thomas before he could ever get close to Meg.

Refusing Henry right now would result in mortal peril for all of them. _All_, including Alice who so far had managed to make herself invisible to the whole matter of the King and his father, Thomas, her husband.

--

Sometimes she doubted if Thomas had a cold figure head to act in front of his daughter, Elizabeth and Cecily. Cecily was a good girl, very quiet, more than Meg, but unlike Meg; she was of very gay humor and managed to make herself invisible to everyone, hardly did she go noticed by someone, except her husband who was always devoted to her. The way William had once been devoted to Meg, before he died.  
Elizabeth however; she was another matter, always troublesome, wild, outrageous in many manners, she was smart regardless of what Thomas said about her, but other than that she was very cruel to others, including her siblings.

Alice always managed to tolerate Elizabeth, he, her husband, always told her that Elizabeth was or had once been, a nice and chaste girl, but since her mother's death at the hands of his revelation to her, she had become very violent, rampant and often times she back talked to everybody around her, including her husband.

She had warned Elizabeth, once, that if she was to do something under her father's nose, she better do it very well and not let herself to carried away, but as always it went unnoticed Alice's advice, the girl was far too wild to listen.

_"And all I can taste is this movie ..._

_And all I can breath is your life._

She wondered if Thomas would be here right now to greet her and talk of old things like how his day went, or about his children, like he used to do so before. He came that same minute she was pondering, and greeted her. But it was quiet, hardly any words were spoken between them. He sat at the dinner table, said his prayers, as the rest of the family with him, including Mary, the now bastard daughter of Isabella and Henry. Eldest grandchild and step granddaughter to Thomas and her.

He looked at all his family and smiled, but she noticed as well as the eldest of his grandsons and daughters; that he did not show any affection at Elizabeth's bastard son. He hardly looked at _it_. The face of the loving and charismatic man turned to face his youngest two sons, Cecily and John who were looking solemnly at their father. Cecily as always, outsmarted John and was the first to speak:

"Dad what are you going to do about our sister?" -She asked in a serious voice.

Thomas turned to face her, "Can you help her?" -he sighed and in a sad voice (that Mary comprehended was very hard for him to say), he let the words come out of his mouth in a very miserable manner. -"I am afraid that helping Margaret right now is becoming more dangerous, the King wants nothing to do with us. All of us, those who have served him are being put in prison and the others hanged, quartered or worse ... beheaded." -He said finally and everybody nodded solemnly.

Everybody knew what his son had been doing lately, even to Mary's pain she had to admit her father had become every inch of a monster. It was hard for a daughter to be denied of her birth right, bastardized; and then flung over as the daughter of a whore. But to have your father being branded as a monster and then to know that he was actually one, was just too hard on her.

Thomas always spent time with her trying to make her feel better, he always succeeded but Mary had become somewhat to overly dependant on him. But on the contrary, Alice encouraged it, she thought that this way the girl could be shaped into becoming better than what that new Queen thought of Mary. Alice never trusted Anne Boleyn, and always thought with all her heart that the Princess Dowager was far too stupid and far too blind, to fully accept in her trust Anne Boleyn. She had a keen eye to know who was worthy of trust and who wasn't, and so far her allegations of Anne had proved themselves to be true. She feared that if Anne want further with this reformation, that her husband and because of the madness she had incurred on his eldest son; all of the More family would pay the ultimate price.

As Cecily turned to her father who patiently gave one of his leftover books to the former Princess, Mary Tudor. She raised her voice and without fear she spoke up.  
"Father ... " Everybody turned to face her, John with his mouth full of food. " ... I was not talking ab-bout Meg. You know ..."

She was interrupted by her father. -"You know we only have one more sibling. That. Is. Meg." -He said calmly yet his voice was cold and harsh. It did not went unnoticed by Mary Tudor who was too surprised at the tone of voice her grandfather used to speak.

"No she is **not the only one**! You.**Know**.That." - She said making John almost spit his food as he sensed his sister's serious tone of voice.

_'Please don't do this ... not here husband, just abandon your silly pride that all you Mores have, and give the girl the reason and say yes to her, regardless if you loose the argument!'_ - Alice thought.

_Sooner or later it is over ... I just don't wanna miss you tonight._

Alice felt perspiration bead her face. The trap was set now for all Mores, and as John and his niece Mary proceeded to trim the affliction that was about to sprout between father and daughter, they wondered dully whether it had sprung at the eldest More's reproach for his second youngest daughter, or because of Cecilia's nagging to bring up his past afflictions.

Mary made a sign, unable to trust her voice. "Grandfather More" She said trying to draw the attention and hurt from Cecilia's direction into her, " ... maybe Cecilia is right, you have been mad at my natural Aunt for more than a year. It is only fair that you should forgive her, before being turned away from my grandmother Ka-t-therine she said that forgiveness is all we can do to make life better."

"Listen to her husband." Alice seated from the front of the table said to her husband Thomas.

In the deep furrows on Thomas' face once could see the map of thirty-three agonising years. And each line that stirred on his face, had been etched further by that-that person in Thomas' mind who everybody else but him called _his_ daughter.

He spoke hesitantly against their claims for forgiveness in his part. "I have written to the King. And he tells me that my grandson, the Prince Henry Arthur of Wales is to receive a huge manner in the Welsh Marches once belonging to you Mary" -He turned to Mary who only smiled at the thought of having a younger brother, but instantly turned her thoughts upside down. Knowing where that little brother came from -and what it would mean to her for her father to further claim her bastards status as her mother's illegitimate daughter and not his daughter.

Thomas More not seeing the sight of contempt in his granddaughter's eyes went further with his allegations. "He also tells me ... that ..." He grew quiet, not knowing if it was wise to let the news about his daughter and her child let itself be known amongst her family members. " That-he plans to give that child. My Elizabeth's child a title! And she also named him Thomas in what she calls **_my honor._ Tell me what mockery Cecilia, is this**?" -Thomas More asked his youngest daughter as he rubbed his pounding forehead that did not ceased to pain him any further.

Cecilia's dark expression glanced over to her father's conflicted one. Daring to challenge him like no other had challenged him before (including _his own _King and son).

"At least Elizabeth dared to defy you sometime! You cannot go to defy your own children's decisions. You once told me that if you could wait for me the day that I would accept your judgement, you would. I do accept it but that does not mean I don't have the right to argue it as your fully mature daughter, Father! I may fear the day when **you** no longer need yourself to call forward your conscience, or your morals. They say that love is outdated even for men like you, but I don't believe it. Find it in your heart for once to forgive the daughter you once loved and pampered ... Do it at least for your family if not for you." -She said boldly.

_"And I don't want the world to see me!_

_As I don't think that they'd understand ..._ _When everything is meant to be broken,_

_I just want you to know who I am!"_

More who looked at his family for any help or guidance in their part; found none. Glancing over at his wife Alice he could see the cold and dark expression written all over her face. For the first time since their silence, Alice bravely stood up and walked over to her husband.

He went to her, close to where she was standing next to his chair, giving her a bright smile hoping to calm her down but it was plain clear to both she would have none of it.  
"Those are dangerous and horrible bias words of yours!" She said in a loud voice for everyone in the room to hear. "Think also for once in your own child Elizabeth and stop thinking about your male pride that all you Mores have! Now I know where Henry gets it."

More stood there astounded for the first time to hear his wife raise her voice in front of his family. "Alice, what will happen to her? Do you know what Elizabeth will cause to herself and to **us**. If she goes along with her plan to ensnare my son ..."

He was interrupted roughly by his wife. "Your son! That is all you really care about is it? Your son, who like I told your silly **first** wife that he is nothing more than a pawn of his women. Like you he really has no will ... but a conscience that causes pain to his loved ones!"

_"And you can't find the tears that ain't coming, all the moment and truth in your lies,_

_when everything feels like the movies, you just bleed to know you are alive!"_

"You have never spoken to me like that." More stated.

Alice huffed and turned her face directly to everybody present in the room. They were all staring at the married couple with wide eyes, not willing to believe their bad luck that for the first they had seen a loving husband and wife fighting over (in every-body's minds) nothing.

Mary Tudor, his eldest grandchild and granddaughter leaned over the dinner table. Her hand twitching as she saw further tension rising up in the room with her grandfather's daughter and wife. She looked over her adoptive caretaker (Alice) who still kept the dark expression on her face. John seated in front of Mary looked at her with a hopeful expression, his eyes secretly telling her it would be alright. But somehow Mary doubted it was true.

Now Cecilia being once again in the middle of the conversation, was unwilling to pull off.  
"They say you are heartless for not supporting at first their Reformation. Maybe they are right, not about their **little '_Reformation'_**, but about your hesitant attitude to forgive your own daughter!"

"She may have done us a lot of wrongs in the past, but never forget Elizabeth always had a kind and loyal heart to her family ... It is our duty to recompense her for that." -Now more confident than ever, Cecilia rose like her stepmother from her table and walked over to her father to hand him something. A small portrait-miniature that once belonged to her older sister Elizabeth. It contained all of her sisters and brother, along with their father and mother smiling happily at each other.

It took everybody in the room great restraint not to see their father cry. Even Cecilia whose tormenting fears and worry circled around her sister's welfare, could not help but feel pity at her father's tears.

--

**_2 days later: _**

**_Chelsea State-Household. More States_**

Thomas remained the next two days at Chelsea awfully quiet amongst his family. Mary often saw him praying at the small Cross alone -by his bedroom's window. "I have so little to leave ..." His wistful tone pierced through Mary's young and feeble heart, whose presence remained oblivious to him.

On the second that Thomas More stood up from the heavy stone cold floor, Mary followed and launched unto his figure to embrace him. It felt that as if for More everybody in his family at the first sign of trouble, thought of an embrace to heal everything. Not willing to contradict his eldest grandchild of her tender affection, he embraced her too and softly kissed her forehead.

For a moment; it seemed to Thomas he was being offered by God, a moment to be reminded of the good times when he would be holding Margaret in the same fashion as he was holding Mary. He tore his arms away from hers and Mary who was still holding his strong form, failed to do the same.

Katherine and Thomas' eldest granddaughter appeared in many ways older than her years, yet in others she appeared younger; so much like a child that still clung to her miserable hopes of beauty and love.

She stood at the center of the room with her grandfather. Head down, and clutching a small string of rosary beads in her fingers that was given to her as a gift by her grandfather. In many ways her strong and cold demeanor, often reminded him of the Katherine he once knew previous to their divorce.

Alice reminded herself, the royal progress of love was easy when it came to politics. But for a man and a woman like them, her and Thomas. Love was, and had to be pure. Otherwise if you fail, you hurt others too in the process.  
She owed it to Thomas and his family, that she stuck by him in the process of his hardships, otherwise his family -both from Katherine and Joanne - would be torn down by his sins with his first two wives. It had been Katherine who had remained the thorn in their marriage, never letting go of her affection to Thomas -that it was Alice who ended up getting hurt in the process. And Alice often told herself at night when she shared her bed with her husband, that she would gladly pay the price. As long as she found it worthwhile to sacrifice her dignity for that of Thomas' touches to her at night.

She never thought she would see Mary, the cold daughter of Isabella, once a great Consort to Henry, alive and happy again with her husband. Peeping covertly through the scene with her eyes, Alice's doleful gaze shifted to her husband's Crucifix. It was tattered and made of old wool, making the face of Christ looking the more dull and hurt at his surroundings. There was sadness and ugliness in that Crucifix, much worn out by the centuries since it was made. Yet, her husband still maintained thatfor the sake of their faith, it was better to keep it. That way -_he once reasoned with her _- when all the relics of the true faith were gone, his would still stand; reminding the people for what they stood for.

_"And I don't want the world to see me!_

_As I don't think that they'd understand ..._ _When everything is meant to be broken,_

_I just want you to know who I am_

Alice made herself be known among her husband and grandchild as she cleared her throat tersely. There was tension noticed in Thomas and Mary's eyes as they saw Alice's inspecting look. Eventually Mary not wanting to cause more tension between her grandfather and his wife left the room. But not before saying her goodbyes to both of them, offering with all sincerity the best of wishes to Alice.

"You have done everything ... there is no words to be said to me Husband. You can rest in peace, I come here not to fight, but to offer you a truce Thomas." - She said, watching the door close behind them by Mary Tudor. Who was now on her way to bed, leaving them both alone in their quarters.

"I have been doing so little. And I am sorry if I have every insulted you or made you feel worse. I truly am Alice." -Thomas More said apologetically to his wife, his hands twitching nervously as he grabbed hers and lead her quietly to their bed.  
He could see the happiness it brought her to be held with such affection. It had been long for both since he had done something to make her feel he was worthy of her love.

Chocking bad a sob, Alice said to him that from now on no more secrets was he to keep from her. She pleaded for the last time with her husband to let Elizabeth be brought back into their family circle. But seeing no avail in Thomas' eyes; Alice then conditioned that if not her then at least her child, who was innocent of all blame regarding his mother's and father's sins with each other.

_"And I don't want the world to see me!_

_As I don't think that they'd understand ..._ _When everything is meant to be broken!_

_I just want you to know who_** I am**_!"_

Thomas was reluctant to agree to her proposal, but seeing his wife mesmerizing and intricate gaze, he was forced to do so, to please her.

_"And I don't want the world to see me, cause they won't understand!_

_When everything is meant to be broken, I just want you to know who ... _**I am**_!"_

Alice hid her head in Thomas' chest as she thought of the many perils they could face now because of his family. Thomas turned his head to hers, catching sight of the silent turmoil Alice's face was reflecting upon his.

Somehow; Alice thought that while Thomas loved her in his own way, she was a poor substitute for his love of Katherine. Nevertheless, she gathered her husband close to her, and very soon Thomas fell asleep in her arms.

_"I just want you to know who **I am !**"_

Alice was silently watching Thomas, well aware that they were on their bed with their casual clothes on. But that did not seem to matter to them, for they had each other. And that was something Alice yearned more than his touch at night.

_"Who_**_ I am_!**_"_

Slowly, as she carefully took his hands into hers, she thought back to the first night he proposed to her a home in exchange of marriage. She had been rather hesitant to accept at the time, being a widow she knew she had no choice. In the end she accepted his deal and brought her daughter in to live with his family. As the years went by, she found to love no other man than him. He was everything a woman wanted in a man, somebody who always loved her (in his own way), cared for her and was always there for her family.  
That kind of man was the man she fell in love with as the years went by in their marriage.

And now, as she lay next to him with his arms around her. She finally felt noticed by his presence.

* * *

**_A/N_**-I wanted to spend time focusing here first on Alice as in more in other chapters because I consider her point of view even if it is done in third person point of view will be important! in future chapters and how the story is playing out. Katherine too will be -as she and Thomas are the most important characters here- important as her view is very important and the events here speak for themselves as the story where it could go, there is surprises and that is in itself the message but it plays more larger, painting the greater picture.


	12. If Everyone Cared and Nobody Cried

A/N:Hope you like it , took me a lot to make this chapter, I know it is short but hey guys it does suit the purpose I wanted to establish with the mixed emotions of the three people family here involved, Henry, Mary (Roper) and Anne Boleyn rightful Queen of England, and their different feelings regarding each other and their positins.

Thanks a lot to my reviewers like BoleynofAragon21 and Ladyjax999 for last chapter and to the rest for previous chapters too!!

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**If Everyone Cared and Nobody Cried.**

_"I distrust those people who know so well what God wants them to do because I notice it always coincides with their own desires" -_ Susan B. Anthony. **_Address to the National American Woman Suffrage Association_** **(1896)**

**--**

**(1534)**

**March 21st, Yuletide Ball.**

**Whitehall Palace.**

The King agreed, in his self confidence and arrogance that his inner conscience was right regarding the matter that needed to be dealt with his mother and _father_, strode through the Palace with an uptight attitude.

Everybody at Whitehall Palace knew better than to question His Majesty's motives for the inner revulsion he felt at trying to prosecute the _traitor_ Thomas More.

The day after Thomas More's last fateful visit to his mother, had been swelling in with rumors and conjectures of affairs and prohibited romances. Henry of course paid no heed to any of them. He believed with all certainty, that whatever had transpired between _his_ **father and mother** was old history by now. But when he looked back to Thomas Boleyn's words, he could see truth in them. His mother and father, despite his constant threats, still kept seeing each other behind their son's back. _'His back'_ -he thought furiously.

Back when he was a child; his _supposed_ Great Grandmother -Margaret Beaufort- a dignified and courageous lady, unlike his mother, always told him that in the end it would be the people he loved or trusted the most that would stab him in the back, betraying him.

Henry did not want to believe those harsh _woman's_ words, but he reasoned that all of his life; harsh words always came from the women that made most of his life. The first were not difficult to point out, being his mother and adoptive _great-grandmother_. Then there was Isabella, barely a man he married her at only 14 years old, she being one year older than him.

Then there was Mary.

Who, Isabella on her deathbed "_lying to God" _still claimed that she was in fact his, and no one else. And that when she -_Isabella_- came to him, she was a true virgin untouched by man. _'His true wife'_ -He thought bitterly, as he lay pondering to the first time he had laid hands on Isabella's body. It was soft and smooth against his touch, her magnificent and obscure red hair flowing through the wind as it hit his chest, her curls ... He brushed those thoughts aside, now convinced that there was no more pure lady than his present and _first_ wife, Anne Boleyn.

He wanted the world to understand that there was no need for him to mourn in remembrance of Isabella, his supposed _'first wife'_. A woman who had never been his wife in the rightful sight of God but merely the widow of an old Prince in Denmark. Her relative of the Spanish blood they both shared, but nothing else. It was on this corner-stone thought that Henry had based the whole edifice for the annulment of his _'first' _marriage, even if five years had already transpired since her death.

And now that he finally had a Prince in the cradle with his **Present** **wife**, everything seemed like a splendid opportunity to emphasize to the people that there was reason behind annulling his first marriage with Isabella.

Henry's feelings for Isabella, his wild passions for her, would never again re-surge. He now had Anne, and despite his many affairs and attractions for other women, he still had his wife to think about. She was the sole responsible party, besides him, to put a male babe on the cradle of England, **he owed it to her to be** **loyal and faithful**.

* * *

**_(1534)_**

**June 9th.**

**Hatfield: Princess Elizabeth's Royal Household**

During the period that Mary had been _taken away _from her mother, she had been haunted by awful visions of her and her brother Anthony, blaming her for all their troubles with her stepfather, Duke Locksley.

Anne, her caretaker who often acted as a substitute mother for her in the absence of her own, told Mary that she should pay no heed to those awful dreams, that in the end dreams were only worries and not true. Her bolt of courage to go against the standards belief of their times surprised Mary, however; it did not make her feel any better. She loved her mother and wanted to be near her, no matter if there was pain involved. Mary was known amongst her family, to always shun pain for love.

As always Margaret had taken the right course, and Mary would one day make a delightful Scholar or Mistress to the crown when Anne's son, or daughter, who-ever caught to it first, would inherit England's throne.

But if Mary proved herself to be as_ "weak and feeble"_like her mother Margaret, then all her chances of rising up would be finished, along with her family who it was rumored the King and Queen did not want near them.  
It was beyond a doubt to Henry that God, condemned his father the moment he had stepped close to his mother, and begotten two deformed children with both his wives.

Mary caught in between the struggle with her half-Uncle and grandfather, suffered the consequences. He had stated to Mary that while in Private they were Uncle and Niece, in public she was nothing for him, as his supposed daughter Mary, was nothing to him either.

Anne, a short distance away from Mary Roper, dancing in the gardens with her three year old daughter Elizabeth, met her tragic glance. Her bow was the soul of affability and sadness, but well enough her Aunt could read all the thoughts that flickered behind it. She was quite aware as Mary of the difficult position she was in, as she herself was caught in the endless struggle between Henry and his mother, Katherine of Aragon.

It took no more than two seconds for Anne to realize in her little _niece's_glance, that her worries were also directed at Anne, her caretaker. If Anne's bouncing little boy survived through childhood and his teen years, her position would be secure **forever**, no matter how much squabbling she and Henry had.  
But if she failed with her ambitions of her youngest child reaching maturity, then her position of Queen along with her daughter's claim to the throne of England would severely decline. And when that happened and all would be lost, another _Queen_, or one of Henry's many Mistresses would be chosen to usurp her position alongside Henry. She might loathe with all her heart and soul the idea of her husband having many Mistresses ... but she would never give in to her anger anymore.

Especially when she needed among the many miracles she prayed for, eternal peace and rest from the English's people's uproar, claiming her daughter was not fit to rule after her brother. It had to be Mary -they said.

* * *

**A/N:**

**To all of my reviewers and those who have yet to review this story who Anna has helped in several chapters, and I thank her too. I want to say that while this story has been a great deal for me to do, I have enjoyed it, and that I will listen to a great advice fellow reviewer BoleynofAragon21 gave me, to listen to my heart as corny as it sounds :P and **


	13. Hate for You

**A/N: **Lately I have not gotten much reviews, probably many must be easy although I don't blame them. But I will update fast not to get reviews but because I will start working 8 hours for internship starting the 11th of August of this year, so the story needs to be finished by then. If not then I am sorry but you will have to wait for the sequel TBP III in three months and if I do update it in a month, each chapter will be four to five months, and wont update normally until January 5th 2009.

Thanks to all of my reviewers who have followed this story loyally. I thank you and this chapter is dedicated in part from Anne and me to you.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Hatred for you.**

_"Hate heals, you should try it sometime."_ -Kerry King, (_Guitarist _of _**"Slayer"**_)

--

**_(1534)_**

**June 5th.**

"_Lady_ _Mary_" took her big horse, and strode off through the fields of Chelsea, riding side-saddle alongside her grandfather Thomas More. She set off on the road further away from Chelsea, becoming closer to where the Thames were. She was ahead of her own grandfather by many miles. Mary just wanted some time, for herself and her conscience to think clearly.

Her rich ivory skin enhanced by the sun's rays, and her delicate sea blue eyes, looked miserable and for some who could be looking at her right now, they would say her expression was not of a dignified Princess of England; but of a haggard or a miserable beggar.

It was due to the sorrow and lack of essence of the young arms of her missing and dead mother, that she felt so alone and miserable. Katherine of Aragon, another woman in her life who had probably been the most influential, always held her when her mother was not there. But the relief her grandmother could have given her, was now gone altogether with her father's affections. And it had all been, _in what was left in Mary's sanity_, because of that _woman and "harlot"_ **Anne Boleyn**. During the many hours that Thomas -her real grandfather- had said to her to be strong, Mary had resisted the urge to spit at his face and make him see the reality in which she lived in, and him too.

He was much of a dreamer, and the thick thinker when it came to seeing the true reality of things. But nonetheless it had been what her grandmother Katherine most loved about Thomas. His naivete and self-assurance that everything was going to be right in the end. God knew that Mary needed that positive way of thinking to make her life all the better.

She had won the greatest victory, she recalled clearly, by sheer determination and logic when she figured out who her **true grandfather was**.

It was not hard for an intelligent and curious child like her to figure it out.

There were too many resemblances between father and son for Mary to ignore that easily, and the way her grandmother always talked reluctantly about her _grandfather_, made her more suspicious about the whole business regarding those three .

Of father, mother and son ... it was the King, her father, who was found to bare more resemblance to Thomas More than his mother, the Princess Dowager. By the time she was shipped away to the Mores, she found herself surprised at how much problems that family had with each of its family members. Lady Alice herself, a good dancer and mother to every family member, including Mary, had sat down one day and targeted her family's problems at Mary; saying that while it was not her fault, it had been her grandmother's, Katherine of Aragon. Who Alice like few of her family, admired the woman for her strong passion of endurance, but did little to hide away their distaste for her.

For a moment that Mary stopped her horse to settle unto some rest on the hard cold grass. It flashed across her mind that Anne Boleyn would right now be rejoicing if she knew that she was sitting alone tonight, weeping in her cheerless little form, far removed in space and spirit from the King and Queen's scene of splendour and gaiety upon the birthday of her half baby brother, Henry Arthur Tudor, and Prince of Wales sent off to live in her old Manor of Ludlow Castle over the Welsh Marches.

Had her mother lived, again she thought bitterly, the people would have accepted Anne with less ease than they did when she was named "Queen". She would have annulled the marriage, and reveal herself for what she really was to Mary, an usurper and schemer out to get from the beginning her mother's throne, the rightful Queen of England and Wife to her father, Henry VIII.

It was Lady Alice More, once again an enemy; but not a schemer, Mary thought with some resentment, against the woman who also hated her grandmother; although in all truth no blame could be directed at her,given that Katherine the Princess Dowager had stolen many nights from Thomas' rightful place with Alice, exchanging the Dame More's bed for hers. Clasping the situation more uncomfortable for Mary, who was always under the watchful eye of a woman who lay threatened by her husband's old flame for the Princess Dowager her grandmother.

Mary gazed at that solemn looking woman, her stoic figure was making it hard for the 'old' Princess to concentrate on her own thoughts on hardships and prayer. Clasping her rosary in an uncomfortable manner, she gazed this time harder as if the power of her old relic made her stronger all the sudden, to Alice More her caretaker who offered her a hand in friendship and assistance to pull her off the cold grass.

Mary gladly took it having no other choice. She rode alongside Alice, exchanging no other words but the occasional requests for directions which the _Dame More gladly gave to her with no resentment._

Alice's mind kept seeing Mary nonetheless as her husband's granddaughter _by Katherine_.

--

Across the Thames nearing his home, where Thomas was, his horse standing out in worry that its two fellow companions had not yet returned from the Thames' forest where at night was the time where more dangers lurked. Thomas nearing in his worries like his horse companion could only sigh in relief as he saw his wife and granddaughter (his ward) come back safely running to his side. He would be sitting alone in the grass by himself, and away from his wild horse, had it not been for his incessant worry and weeping heart at the thought that both his ward and wife could no longer be seen by his loving and callous eyes.

Mary's voice thankfully interrupted him from such thoughts, and greeted him with an apologizing tone. Demonstrating how awful she felt for straying away from his path while Alice chased through the forests of the Thames looking for her.

Thomas' voice interrupted her rhapsody of apologies and warmly said in a sympathetic tone. "Arrogant it is to apologize without a cause. But I know that it ails you that I do not fight for your throne and I cannot for it could mean your doom as well as mine. The King is taking prisoners when he smells or has a hint of treason _from his counselors or the Queen._ I am sorry I cannot do more."

Alice More who stood seated in her own horse far behind Mary, as the three of them rode to Chelsea listened to every word he said however barely audible, and her mind revolved around the idea that if the King could have his own mother in a prison cell, he could very well have all Mores hanged, quartered, or beheaded for treason if Mary still kept at stubborn claim to the throne after her brother's.

Mary who was ahead of Alice in the race along her grandfather to reach Chelsea before signs of an approaching storm could come their way, did not seem to notice the dangerous glares of the woman far behind her, or did not want to. Either way she and Thomas More reached Chelsea safely, followed far behind his wife Alice More.

* * *

**_1534_**

**June 6th**

**Chelsea State, along the Thames: More's Household**

As the news filtered the next day through the household of the Mores that the King, his own son planned to call Thomas More in for testify against Katherine for committing perjury and the punishable crime of adultery.

The punishment they all knew would be branding and whipping in a public ceremony, where it would only serve further for his humiliation. Mary who was closest to the news than everybody else in the room, could only nod in disgust as she tried to digest what awful actions her father wanted to take against his own father.

Kneeling in the Chapel, built close the Chelsea State. As a courtesy from Thomas' youngest daughter Elizabeth in hopes that he could one day find it in his heart to grant her forgiveness for what she did with her brother and his son.

She prayed to the small Virgin-Mary Statue, thickly believing that the mother of God could hear her eloquent words. Her needle of doubt was stilled for a few seconds as she could feel the presence of her paternal grandfather enter the room of her prayers. Like a serpent darting briefly into her Eden to spoil another innocent creature, contempt spread through them as their eyes briefly met. The memory of both of their past remarks regarding her argument that he _should_ do more to fight for her right to be claimant to the throne, was still fresh on his mind.

_"And tell me Grandfather ... does he resemble his father, my father or his true one?"_ -Mary, first in the heat of her jealousy and hurt that Anne had finally delivered what her mother never could; had said in angry tears of hatred and contempt to Thomas long before she rode off _to be left alone in the Thames' forest_.

Mary's contempt had both shocked and saddened Thomas, not for her attitude or the way she said things for he knew she was human and could not expect less but for her to be angry at the woman who she felt had replaced and caused the death of her mother. But the contingency in which she suggested that the matter must resolve itself with suspicions and treason, left Thomas to ask himself if it was wise for her to talk such things aloud in a House where he no longer knew whom to trust.

"Mary, your sister would one day have to rely on you. She never lacks the confidence against any peril, mortal or not. But you must be with her from now on, if I am to be called to stand trial and be found guilty upon crimes of adultery, sin among other things ... like treason." He said solemnly, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Nay, that cannot happen! You are a good honest man. My father cannot lock his own in prison just for some quarrels regarding his parentage ... he can't right?" She asked hopeful that he would give her a _'no'_ answer to sooth her fears.

Thomas More wistfully turned away from her sight and stared out the window she was near, where he looked out to see his youngest grandchildren by Cecilia happily playing in the grassy fields of Chelsea.

"Mary ... I want to discuss with you the matter of martyrdom." He said, turning to watch her solemn face once more before continuing. "I know it is a hard subject, but you take it better than my eldest daughter Margaret ... She would probably have cried but now, but you stand still with your iron will. Keep it like that and I am sure you will make a fine Queen someday, despite of your sex."

Comforted by his cool and sensible tone of voice, Mary leaned forward into an embrace.

He silently thought in his incessant worries, that if something were to happen to him ... for being convicted of any treason Henry would surely have no problem inventing upon him and Katherine; Mary his eldest grandchild would surely too be accused or either moved for _her security_ at Hatfield. Where she would be stationed to work as _maid_ or Lady-In-Waiting to the young Princess Elizabeth, or worse to her torment as maid to Prince Henry Arthur.

Unacknowledged within him was the sadistic urge of Henry to hurt his parents in any way, shape or form for their opposition against him to see each other frequently, despite his incessant warning on behalf of his messengers.

His patient soothing managed to calm down Mary's sobs. At her eye sight met his, he made her see that in his eyes no fear was there, as no pity. Only strength and conviction that everything else regarding their lives would be alright from now. He told her to rejoice in the thought of having her grandfather close to her, even if it was for the last time.

--

The next day the family lay surrounded by worries and thoughts of distrust among their own selves and each other as the King's messenger lay down a letter in Thomas More's study.

In an effort not to worry his family any further; he took the letter and with a bright smile that showed all his effervescent sense of gaiety, he read. "The King according to this letter says to me that he plans to enact a bill in which we must all swear by him as Supreme Head of the Church. Not to do this would be an act of treason and the consequences stated here are said to be dire upon _rebellion_. Furthermore ... the King sends also a second letter ... to me. Stating I am to be held on trial and if found guilty I could be punished by public whipping or branding ... alongside Katherine."

For so long that he remained quiet, upon finishing his resumed version of the King's two letters. His family surrounded with doubts and mistrust among themselves, fretted over the realization of their father and Patriarch being taken away for humiliation.

They all thought one day, Thomas would feel guilty and realize all his sins for burning 6 innocent men whose only guilt was to think of God in different manner than him. Now Alice who knew him best in the room, thought that Thomas must be feeling the same as those men he once incarcerated.

What would become of her? Of her family and Mary ... whom as of now she thought no better than Thomas and Katherine's granddaughter. But now that she knew that whatever that woman Katherine had brought upon her family; Mary did not deserve to suffer for that fate.

Frantically as she and Thomas' heads kept asking these questions, John on the far side of the room rose up to his father's level of independence for the first time, assuring his parents as his family that he would be a worthy heir to take over his (Thomas') job of taking care of the Family.

"It is far deeper that I fall behind you and my half-brother Henry. But if you are condemned for adultery, I will harbor no ill feelings and rest assured that the family will be taken care off. None of us will leave a family member unarmed, if one goes down we all dive in to for their defense, regardless of their guilt or innocence. Father ..."

For so long Thomas had remained austere to his son's presence. At times he had thought John was weak and feeble minded, but now he proved him wrong. He, Thomas, had no longer any worries or doubts about his son's independence, and his assurance that he would one day make a fine laymen or Scholar to replace his presence in the world and in his Family's Household.

John was all the sanity that was left in an insane world, Mary who came to know him best of the rest of his family could not be any happier as father and son embraced each other, pledging their love and alliance for their families.

What would become of them? It was a question that held no answer, what would come would come. And they would be ready for it, but together, as a family.

* * *

A/N: There you go folks, from me I hope you like it.


	14. Mad World: Beginnings

**A/N:** Hope you enjoy it ... Thanks to all!

Thank you to my reviewers of "_AestheticNarcissist"_, "_BoleynofAragon21"_and "_ladyjax999"_ for the last three chapters. You girls are great!

* * *

**Mad world: Beginnings**

_"Fear is the main source of superstition, and one of the main sources of cruelty. To conquer fear is the beginning of wisdom." -_Bertrand Rusell, _**An Outline of Intellectual Rubbish**_ **(**_1950_**)**

**--**

**(_1534_)**

**July 6th.**

**Whitehall Palace.**

Her caution over the discovery that her son somehow knew of her little kept secret, let Katherine to her awful sorrow and helplessness as she was left to battle this crisis alone. Thomas would not be able to visit her, not after her son and the rest of the Court knew what _he_ and she had done under the noses of England's nobles.

They had not only made a mockery of his Court, in Henry's opinion, the King of England; but also to the _nobility_ whose minds were dead set on ruining their reputations from day one when they did not pledge their allegiance the Head of the newly created English Church, Henry the VIII.

It was so unfair, so hypocritical that here Katherine was fighting for her right to live apart from the very son that had wanted it so, and now that very same young man was fighting for the world to acknowledge his will that no one -not even his mother, was exempt from it. In his mind his mother Katherine of Aragon, would never be exempt from his watchful hawkish eyes, as he felt he had never been exempt from hers when he was a child.

So many years had passed for Henry and so much had happened in that time, for him to be aware of his **real surroundings.** Now that he was more _mature and grown up_; he started to see the friends he was surrounded with. Their gay faces, their fretting and their favors, all a cover up for something else, something more sinister in Henry's mind.

One that could mean for him his ultimate reign and hold as the Heir to the Tudor Dynasty.

--

Katherine upon arriving to Court, had never been so conspicuous of her son's absence. It was protocol that he came here to receive her, to greet her no matter what. Yet, he had abstained himself from doing so, and that could only mean that he either did not wish to see her or that he had worse plans ahead for her.

* * *

**July 3rd.**

**Locksley States. Near Scottish Borders.**

A mental picture of her father struck through Margaret as she lay in bed, being bled out from the infection that spread through her as consequence of her latest miscarriage.

After Mara Locksley-Roper More, the daughter she bore to George Locksley her present husband; she had bed him for several occasions in the hope that he could beget a male heir from her womb. Fortunately for her and unfortunately for him, she had not done so and in the third month of her pregnancy, she had miscarried her second child. It had been the much-awaited boy that the Duke hoped he could get from Meg.

The duke however; after the miscarriage that left his wife in a terrible state of fever and sickness, **did not feel any less pain for her as he felt for his dead son**. He had been his pride and his hope, and within him he felt that Meg had robbed him from it.

George Locksley walked into the room where his wife lay, her head still clutched in pain and her figure contorted with sickness and signs of a low fever.

"Let us be honest Meg, for once, and be done with this pretence. Henry will soon try to get rid of your father's lover ... yes I know Margaret, it was not easy to not do so. Anthony has a great and feeble mouth when it comes to be miserable." -He said. At the mention of _Anthony_, Meg lightly sobbed knowing that now more than ever, her son had accused her in public with his Governess of being guilty for killing of his half brother. _He_ **hated Mara, a****nd made no attempt to hide it away from the rest of the Household**.

Sometimes it seemed to Meg as if Anthony was proud of his hatred towards Mara.

Her _husband Locksley_ not aware of her thoughts, saw it fit to continue his talk. "After he finishes with his mother, he will put the punishment of branding to your father, and then possibly whipping ... to further his humiliation in Public. Is that what you want Wife?"

Meg hushed him as she kept clutching her head in severe pain.

But Locksley, further approached her, and tore her hand roughly from her hot forehead. "**I know you do not love me.** And that you think that I do not love you, but you are wrong. I am not all that heartless as I appear to be a bastard. Believe me Meg I am not!"

And with that Locksley left, leaving Meg more astounded than ever about her husband's newly revealed face.

* * *

**(1534)**

**July 6th.**

**Whitehall Palace.**

Henry VIII watched as his guards brought his richly clothed parents into his rooms. On the left side of his desk were the both of them, Katherine of Aragon and Thomas More, silently pleading to him, each in their own way for his absolution and pardon for their sins. However; in advance their minds knew at once that by their son's look they could not achieve such thing, much less forgiveness coming from a son that had thrown away their love years ago, while theirs was still kept for him in their hearts.

Sardonically Chapuys who was brought into the room seconds after, watched the two lovers strolling together in their pleas for the King's pardon, their son.

He already knew at this point **who Henry really was.** And was not afraid to keep it a secret, not because he had a deep love for the King as his parents did; but because he owed it to his Lady the Princess Katherine to do so.

"Henry please listen! I know this is hard for you ... but me and your mother both agree that it would be easier for all if you just **don't say anything** _regarding_ _our matter!_" -Thomas said attempting for his son to see his reason.

"Oh so it's Henry now and not Harry! All of you tried to attempt to lock me down in your little schemes but had it not been for me conceiving a son with my **first wife!** I would not have seen through your lies Thomas ... you are no more father to me than you are to Elizabeth!"

Katherine's stoic figure shattered as she heard her son utter those hurtful words to his father.

For the first time since she arrived she decided to speak up against the man she gave her life a blood for, a man she now knew was not worth fighting over his protection and love. _He was much a Tudor _sadly to her judgement. _"_Henry, here you come and invite us to humiliate! Is that what you want from us, humiliation? ... **have we done you so bad in this life Henry that your conscience cannot let go of the fact that you are our son, do you really resent us so?**_"_

The Ambassador watched as the young man's emotions shifted from his mother to his father. And whatever last resource he had at his disposal (that Chapuys was sure he did), Henry would not tell easily. On the contrary he would make everybody guess until he would surprise them, and send his father and mother to a public ceremony of humiliation, where their names and reputations would forever be more tarnished than what they already were.

It would have been easy for Katherine to confront her son with adultery, malice and his many other sins, but the thought of naming him as such in front of his father and her Ambassador was too much to bear for her. She had to look for other ways, but unfortunately, Chapuys saw no other ways but her to confront him further now than what she already started with her reprimands seconds ago.

Naturally Chapuys on the other end of the room, watched as the three of them engaged in dangerous conversations, and his worry turned to alert. Knowing that if any of them would let their tempers go loose, especially the King; **there would be hardly anything left of them to defend their selves by**.

Their screams and insults were already getting out of hand, and too loud for the people outside guarding the door to hear. One thing was certain for Chapuys. If any misguided peer announcedthis to Anne or send an indirect sign that this had got out of hand, he would not only sign his own death warrant, but also the deaths of all the people involved as Henry's supporters to the throne.

The King who had emerged prior to his eight birthday as monarch and head of the Tudor Dynasty, hardly bore any known resemblance to the cheerful and shy Prince Arthur Tudor of Wales, who died so young in his fifteen years of life, shortly after wedding the now Princess Dowager Katherine of Aragon. This young man, close to his mid-thirties was a lion rampant. He had swept aside most of the opposition abroad with an ease that at time had surprised even his cousin, the Emperor Charles and other Kings of Europe, who all swore when they met him seven years ago, that he was no more violent than the saints in heaven. They had not the slightest idea that the young innocent man in their late twenties who they once met, so young, innocent and full of life and goodness in his heart, was now merciless tyrant on the eve of torturing the people he was supposed to held most dear to his heart, his parents.

Henry's image was no longer golden as the sun no longer shined brightly on England. The days that lay ahead for them were to be full of red scare and witch hunting brought on by the Country's own leader, His Majesty, Henry.

A strong male shout that came from within the room interrupted his thoughts. -"I doubt Henry that I am merely Your Majesty's humble servant. You want me to kneel at your feet? Then fine! I will kneel, but don't think you can just yell like this and not think through the consequences **Harry**. If you want the people to know that the King of England is incapable of keeping his word to be just ... then do it! But don't count me on it!"

Thomas More after finishing his account of the facts to his son, knelt before him.  
In his heart the ex-Chancellor reluctantly pushed away all thoughts of comfort or grace for his son. The man standing in front of him, seeing his father humiliate himself, as he begged like an animal; was not his son. He was somebody else completely, feeling revolted for the two people that gave him life, he was capable of course, to carry out punishment to them.

Chapuys turned to Thomas More with an astounded face, never before seeing this angry glare in the one ex-Chancellor that served England with justice and humility.

"I cannot grant that _father._ You and mother will be taken to trial where all of your sins will be revealed. Perhaps you should ask Katherine what she has been hiding from you for so long ... Did she tell you what your last night produced?" Henry taunted as he turned a bland innocent face to his father.

Thomas More shook his head at his son's taunts, knowing with certainty that they could not be true.

He turned to the Princess Katherine, who remained silent with horror at her son's last sentence. In that moment the ex-Chancellor who had kept his head tight on his bull neck, knew that Henry's taunt was based on a horrible truth, once again kept by Katherine and his granddaughter Mary, making him look a fool greater than what he already was.

"No." -He said, attempting to launch a grin to his son. But failed miserably as he saw his first wife's face fall in shame, turning away from his sight.

The Ambassador infinitely preferred to be thrown at the mercy of the Spanish Emperor and his ruthless politicians than to be cloistered now in an austere room where the humor of the three people involved besides him, equaled that of the room's austere presence.

"I am sorry." -The Princess Dowager said stoically, moving off to the long-narrow corridor from outside her son's Chambers after she exited the room. The Guards standing outside did not dare to question the King over his mother's shock and her behavior, they merely responded with nodding their heads with monotone looks, as their King commanded them to keep guard and prevent anybody from entering the room at all costs if necessary.

"The Devil revealing sin through your woman, _eh_** Father?**" Henry said with a grin. He and Thomas had _once been good friends_.

All that was left of that friendship however, lay shattered by the demons of lust and deceit.

* * *

**July 9th.**

**Chelsea State: More Household.**

Cecilia Heron-More lay seated on the far end of the corner of her father's study. She knew that her father was not present at home with Alice the moment she had arrived to Chelsea. But her reasons to keep on waiting in the old House, where of other matters besides visiting her parents.

Her family was gone and along with them, their dignity, shattered in million pieces as her father was scheduled to be punished in a public ceremony with branding and whipping. At least Katherine's body she thought sardonically, would not suffer the same fate as him, but it was unjust in the extreme to reflect that her father might well be excused had it not been for the fact that he lacked political allies in the matter, while Katherine did not.

Lady Heron could never feel more frustrated and helpless. For the first time, she felt the heavy weight her father's shoulders had to carry on her own. Returning to her father's chair, she set forth a male servant of her father's to run an errand. The servant loyal to her father was not so loyal after she paid him with a large pouch of silver coins, meant to keep his silence.

"Elizabeth must be warned." She silently said, to one in particular as she flexed her thin skeleton finger together.

* * *

**July 10th.**

**Public Ceremony: at Traitor's Gate.**

In the very nature of things, Thomas had always been much of a friend and mentor as he could to Henry. Now he was to be cleansed by his son, and unlike other men who prayed for the downfall of their enemies, including their sons if they are who committed the harm against them.

Thomas More had none of that.

For his son's sake he rejoiced with the knowledge that despite the trial's verdict, Henry had not been involved with the accusations of adultery which could only mean that for the moment and even years to come, Henry's position as King of England and heir Protector to the Tudor Dynasty would remain intact, no matter what.

Thomas looked away to his son's window, on the other tower next to the one known as the "Traitor's Gate". His poor eyesight could barely allow him to caught sight of his son as he was seated in his chair looking from his window, waiting for Thomas' punishment to begin.

* * *

**A/N** - _Hard writing this for me. And next chapter will be the whipping and the branding sorry for this guys, it will be hard but then again it serves to the purpose not only to hate Henry more LOL but to see just how much you are willing to pay the price for a person that might no longer be worth loving, but he is your son and you love him nonetheless not to speak out, and to protect your grandsons who are still innocent and pure, regardless that you could get stung in the process._

_I want to thank in part reganx for some of this marvelous idea of branding._


	15. Feared or Loved: Everything in Between

**A/N:**

**Here you go 15th Chapter!!**

Thanks to my previous reviewers of _ladyjax999 _and _aestheticnarcissist_.

And as I promised to _BoleynofAragon21_ read her story _Freedom's Price_. Really good.

Thank, here you go y'all the chapter you have been waiting for. And I notice I have been missing reviewers, so get up and type your reviews guys.

* * *

**Feared or Loved: Everything in Between.**

_"You can die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain." _-Harvey Dent, _**Dark Knight**_ **(**2008**)**

**--**

**(_1534_)**

**July 10th.**

Escaping the only way Thomas could from his helplessness, he turned his hesitation to Alice. Wondering what he was going to say to her when she saw him like this, miserable and racked to the point of near death.

If it hadn'tbeen for his lips pressed together, he was sure he would have screamed right now to the point where all of his enemies would laugh to death as they were nearly causing his own.

"Aaaahh!" -He couldn't hold it no more. He opened his mouth further to scream, there was no angel or mercy of God to help him, he was here by his self and alone and in the tears of a river paved with death and sorrow.

His father. being a man of high birth had suffered the same fate of imprisonment long ago by Henry's surrogate Grandfather, Henry the VII. For rebelling againstHis Majesty, but the public had never really known the full truth of his imprisonment. They never asked the why and the who's. In reality, the whys and the whos of his father's imprisonment were just a false scenario for the public. One of the many fun and games' scenario thrown in by their previous King Henry Tudor to amuse himself and torture all those who opposed his new reign, his father among them.

John More the eldest who now lay dead in an **unmarked grave**, **a courtesy of Thomas More, the son who had always beheld a grudge against his father for taring him apart from the sweet** **arms of his true love** and marrying him off to a mad woman. _'Joanne.'_ (He thought disappointed) -Whose only purpose was to continue to haunt him with the loss of their youngest child to the end of his days.

Then as his child's sobs broke him from his thoughts, there was a pause to his screams as he saw his beautiful daughter's face hidden in the crowded spectacle.

As he spoke forgiveness through his teeth stained in blood as well as the rest of his back as it was being racked to the point of nearly killing him; his words could still be heard through out the crowd that much condemned him.

"I come here ... to this ... _(sighs)_ punishment! ... **I know!** _(coughs blood),_ that I will probably not survive and **will surely die** ... **but, if I don't please** ... don't condemn me for loving another ... I **Will **admit it was a sin, but at least ... I-I am b-being p-unished ... **(screams)** for it and not_ (coughs up blood)_ like some ... whose punishment will be saved up in death ... where it will last ..._ (coughs up blood)_ an Eternity! ... for everything_ (sighs)_ w-we ... d-do **(screams)** lasts ... an Eternity."

Anne Boleyn who was in disguise dressed as a commoner, watched in as the rest of the crowd with neutral eyes and expression -as the man who had been so beloved by the public, now fell down into a large pulp of his own blood, crumpled to the floor with nobody to help him stand up.

Powerless they might be the More family standing next to her, (_not noticing her presence_),still had some surge of sympathy and belief in his innocence. It was natural_, Anne thought_ with pity in her heart. He had been their Patriarch and father for so long, that now it seemed strange that barely four years after his triumphant ascension to Chancellor, the people shifted in their love upon his ruin into hatred, not willing to open their hearts for him any longer.

It was the inherent sense of fair play inculcated in most Englishmen and their Nobles, their dislike of watching a judged man like Thomas who preached purity, being all the contrary to those words he swore he lived by and preached.

Meg who was on the verge of falling down, was helped by her brother John to endure the pain that the Queen knew well was taking a huge toll of her health. It could be seen through the fresh sobs, and frenzied grief of the young adult woman, that her face was turning more paler than usual. A cold chill skittered up her spine, as well as Meg's, as they heard loud breathing.

Sir Thomas More who was on the wooden platform, washed up in the red and black colors of his blood, began to breath heavily as the last thing that passed through his mind towering over the pain of his open wounds was the living image of his first wife -Katherine of Aragon.

* * *

**(_1534_)**

**July 11th_._**

**Lambeth Palace.**

Very early in the following morning, on the first dawn that the sun set foot over English hills Thomas had been taken by barge to his home at Chelsea accompanied by his daughter, the Duchess of Locksley Margaret More.

For one delirious moment as they passed through the gates of Lambeth and off into the currents of the river to reach the Thames, he -Thomas- wondered if Henry had awaited all this time since his birth to show the public that he would rather be feared than loved. And if showing Thomas, one of his most _true_ friends and father-figure; was all a part of an intricate plan to demonstrate his potential rivals just what Henry was willing to do against those whom he considered _his _enemies ... he succeeded.

Now Henry had not only turned into a monster and a tyrant, but also into a feared and hated figure by all those who crossed his path. Anne included -who was not absent from that feeling.

* * *

**A/N**: _There you go, please Read and __**REVIEW!  
**Sorry for being to short but I intended like I said on my summary to show just the level of violence along with sentiment intended for the reader to feel the injustice that son does over father._


	16. Is it bright where you are?

**A/N**

Ok I have been frustrated lately things have been going down bad, have bad luck bad everything and I had a great chapter for this but now is gone!! So I made this the best I could! I know am I altered hell yeah LOL and have been nervous..Thanks for my past reviewers, and for those who have not reviewed ...

enjoy the story y'all!

* * *

**_Chapter 16: _Is it bright where you are?**

_"The world will look up and shout 'save us' ... and I'll whisper: _**no**_" _-**_ Watchmen (_**2009_**)** _

_--_

**(_1534_), ****July 11th.**

**_Thomas speaks ..._**

Very early in the following morning, I Thomas More on the eve of the carmine streaked dawn had been dragged, humiliated and in my darkest hour punished with the mark of branding burning deeply into my arm's flesh.

The stench of burning flesh still reached my nostrils.

Accompanied by my wife and my daughter, powerless I was to tell them to let me be and go about their business.

It had been in my darkest hour, that all of my family -_excluding Elizabeth now Lady Hartford, and Cecilia_ - came to my gross spectacle to see me drenched in blood and sweat, my son laughing at the spectacle while his father was racked to death by his orders.

Weariness and perhaps, more weariness, was a common expression I saw among many of the faces that kept me company.

Encosed now I was among the worst night of my life, squatting over my feet and anger at the impotence of my punishment. The realization over my wretched (_Cecilia_) daughter's words _that the **"King is the King**"_ and I his loyal servant and footstool, to please in every way he wanted, made me sick with anger and kick away the restraints that were holding my feet.

My lip curled in disgust and I found myself harboring hard envy for the first time since last year, for the three women that had ruined my life -and scorned it with bitter tears._'Hail Mary full of Grace ... Holy Mother please give me a strong man for my behalf, a Chapuys or one loyal Emperor as nephew _(not so loyal anymore)_to rise on my behalf like _Katherine's _... but not this ninny!'_

(My wife's name, was spoken for the first time from my lips with revulsion and disgust, eager to replace her for another memory -I found myself praying for hers to come back again.)

**_How I wished_** I could have had somebody as loyal as **Cranmer**, or with interpretive gesture of ambition like** Cromwell** to speak on my behalf. And not somebody who was sensitive and weak like Fisher.

As we passed the massive riverbank and finally reached down the Thames, the ripples of the water grew more and more thicker, and at every corner I could hear the nightly owls singing in their _devilish _tunes as we passed them by.

_'Holy mother, grant me someone as brave as Cromwell, or as keen as Cranmer ... someone to speak for me ... l__ike they spoke for Anne when she rose to the struggle against Isabella and her ruthless army of Spanish Ambassadors.'_ **Two women**, _I thought ironically_ -competing for the same throne. But in the end, it had been Anne with her wild cheers, her gaily french dresses and with her crowds of loyalists on either side of her behind, raising banners to support their '_May_' Queen that won the ultimate struggle to become the _lawful 'Consort' _**of England**.

Would God have mercy on those three women, as _he had for me_at this moment of disgrace, that he let me live? I sighed deeply, a year was enough to them, perhaps not even twenty would have come to pass before my mind plucked each year from my gray hairs on my head. What did it matter for them? They were relatively young, in body and -like Katherine- in spirit, it was only statecraft for me that had aged me terribly. My frustrated life, my ambitions, and my cares of love for my women had all robbed me of my youth, and of my immortal soul.

I was **hollow**.

_I am nothing now ..._ but a pair of bones with bare flesh to show.

The hours dragged by slowly. Some of the women in the barge on our way to Chelsea slept, but there were others who were more awake and more frightened as time wore on, that sleep became impossible for them.

I winced back my damp brow at the biting scorn I felt for those_ three _women. One of them I could feel her presence of deceit on our barge, it was the ghost of my _first_ wife after Katherine -Joan More. _How could it really come to this_ ... that I am now delusional with the ghost of my **dead wife?** Even as Fisher and the rest of my family lay under the stars, waiting to land on the Thames' forest so I could be brought to rest -in hopes that I could heal my harsh wounds, I knew that what I had done in the eye of the Public was not so much a sin in lovemaking as it was forbidden; but blind as I was at the moment I at last touched my _true wife_ did I not notice that with all the touches of our bodies, we were not only consecrating ourselves to each other and to this life as lovers,

**But the sun nonetheless rose** without problem, and still, the people who kept me company had not said a word. They all thought _I must be dead_ -weary as I stumbled with fever and my dying breaths could hardly be heard from their loud noises muffled above each other in concern for me.

At last, we reached ashore for Chelsea but I could walk no more, they led me inside my house carried on my daughter's and son's shoulder, gasping and biting my lips against the recurrent pains. Bishop Fisher, a man fully aware he was perilously near the edge of that precipice over which Wolsey had been deliberately pushed by Anne and others, helped me with my dislocated shoulder to carry part of my body to my home.

* * *

**_Minutes Later ..._**

They carried as they walked, in their backs a dying Thomas More. Alice his wife, put her arm around his neck in an effort to feel a breathing or gasp of air coming from his lips. But when he opened his mouth to speak, for a moment she thought that he would chide her, and in a perverse way grab her as if he had longed for her body all this time. But nothing came, only a sigh escaping from his lips as he moaned with pain lowering his head. She could not bear to see him so beaten, like a whipped dog.

And then, as if Thomas could sense her shame at holding him, he coughed abruptly, spitting blood on the floor and towards the Bishop Fisher's face as he knelt down to help him get settled on the soft carpet. He refused their help as his loved one towered above him to keep him steady while he convulsed.

* * *

**(_1534_)**

**July 11th.**

**Chelsea State: _More Household._**

Before dawn, I opened my eyes silently and moving against the darkest corners of veils covering my eye-sight, I found for myself the one token I had always taken for granted. Alice. I had _her _by my side. Alice, my sweet little Alice, my fragile Avalon -the little sickle knife that I had taken from her widowhood and introduced her to my family in hopes that she could become a good mother to them as she was to her own daughter; but she had become something more. A loyal wife, a loyal woman and strong to everything I made her suffer. I bound that strength of hers tightly around my waist, beneath my garments as I felt her hand touch mine and it was there I decided, that she would never leave my side again.

It was Alice I desired, not Joanne or Katherine. Alice, my crescent sweetheart and Renaissance _Queen _that brought me from the darkness into the light.

* * *

**A/N**: _I KNOW SHORT, but I wanted to illustrate Thomas More's madness as he sees the ghost of his dead wife after Katherine. He sees Katherine in a way betraying him by the news Henry gives to him in Chapter 14, his son no longer loves him and is willing to rack him without remorse, his memory of Katherine in some way reminds him of his "sins" and why is he there being racked, the thought of Cecilia and Elizabeth not being there is his way of feeling betrayed and then his feelings towards sadly change too, he no longer feels pity but some of the rage -perhaps even greater that Katherine previously felt against her. Alice he realizes a little too late was there all along.  
__Avalon by the way is a mystical land, temple or island to a goddess or where magical priests or druid women would conjure the power of the goddess and Alice since she represents that paradise to Thomas, he assimilates her to that. The quote you'll understand why I put it here._

So this was to illustrate just the journey to get to Chelsea, again sorry if it was short, but long chapters are ahead:D


	17. You're so Strange

**A/N: **Here you go Chapter super long of tears, suspense, and many mystery to ahead, 17

This chapter did not quite turn out as I expected, it turned out as I expected in the heart of the climax but I feel I will add up a little bit more later.

:D

* * *

_**Chapter 17: **_**You're so Strange**

_"Is it bright where you are **...  
**__never people change, does it make you happy, you're so very strange ... in your darkest hour, we can watch the world devour in it's pain ... Strange" _**-**Smashing Pumpkins, **_In The End is The Beginning is the End. _(**2009**)**

**--**

**(1534)**

**July 31st.**

**Chelsea, More Household.**

_'Why can't I see ... I can't see!'_ **-Thomas **thought anguished. His wife's face next to his could barely speak, as he looked down at her trying to pint-point her location. Alice tried not to cry but the pain was too unbearable. She immediately spoke to Thomas, "I am here" but he didn't listen -he only kept her back, trying to do all the work of locating her by himself.

_"_**I** _will make you comfortable as_ I can Husband._"_ -Alice said gently, but Tomas just pushed her away, casting her aside like he did with all of his family. All insides from Alice, hurt deeply at her husband's sense of pride to do things by himself.

Thomas did not want people to do the things he felt he **should **do. It was in his best efforts he tried to be nice to them, his family. But all he could do was shout, and begrudge them whenever they offered their help to him.

He felt so frustrated that the things he could do before, he couldn't do them now. And why? He asked himself quietly as he felt his wife's eyes probing him with madness, it was the same madness he felt all of the _others_ probed him with. They all felt he was mad with pain, and although, he acted that way; it was not the case. He only wanted to show them how capable he was at lifting himself of from hardship, he had done it before -back when his father was still alive and _he_ lived survived at the iron fist of that man.

Finally lifting his pride aside as he stumbled to the floor when he tried to get up by himself from the bed, he walked -as best he could in his blindness- over to Alice. He felt the touch of her face with his bare hands, she shivered at them. He grew frantic, troubled that it was the first time his wife felt so troubled at his touch. Has she fall out of love with him so soon?

Would she leave him too like Katherine? ... was that it?

"Alice" He called to her, in a gentle manner as his wife had spoken before to him. She did not respond with words but bent over to kiss him, an act that caused little surprise. Thomas sighed once their lips parted, when last he felt a women part from his lips so soon, it was because _she_ first told him he was going to be a father, then the other was when she told on him -blaming Thomas for being the main cause of the death of their unborn child.

This time, he did not expect any of those surprises, only some comfort or form of tenderness from his _true_wife, his only hope in the world to survive the madness that surrounded him because of Henry.

At last when she saw his downcast sight, she spoke to him.  
"Thomas, Husband, listen to me ... they will come for you again, and this time they will not be so generous, you know how troubled your son is, he will find you, one way or another to keep you from breathing and when that happens -may God forgive me for saying this, but the heavens will surely fall! Along with your soul, me and all the others who supported you, including your Family and Bishop Fisher."

**"He is not my son."** -He said.

"What?" She asked surprised. Thomas touched her face once again, caressing the part closest to her nose, it was the part he loved the most about her. Erasmus had always said her nose was the worst part of her face, but he didn't care, for him -right now she was the most perfect woman in the world, whose inner beauty only made her more desirable to his eyes, however blind he was not to spot her at the moment.

"It's all right ... please don't cry it is just that I cannot accept Henry as my son. Truth is he never was. He was always Tudor, through and through. I gave him life Alice." He said desperately. " ... part of my blood ... had he not been conceived by my passion with Katherine -he would not have existed. But that's it. That's all I gave him, but to Henry it is more than blood that matters, it is dynasty and Royalty something that makes him Tudor in his soul. I am so sorry for everything, we are in the hands of solitude like you said ... You were right" He said to her helplessly, as her rocked her in his arms, trying to calm her silent tears.

But even as he soothed her, despair beat at her.

_'Why did you do this to us Father? Great Father, God and great being of all nations, why? ... Tell me, please before I no longer have the courage to back away from yours and Henry's cruel will'_

And he did not know whether he was making this call to God, or Henry himself where ever his son was at the moment, shagging one new mistress after another, living off his expenses while his people -loyal to him, were left forgotten.

* * *

**(_1534_) July 14th.**

**Whitehall Palace.**

All the long road to Whitehall, was kept with silence and cold demeanor. Anne lay in her seat with callous eyes to all those around her. Her son! **Her only baby son and heir** ... had died all of the sudden.

He had been so wonderful, so silent when Anne last saw him. He was her triumph, her glory and the pedestal in which she could hold the crown, where her previous competitor Isabella had failed. Now all of that, all of her efforts and her family's lay at ruin by the death of the King's only child. His only legitimate son. As long as he had dozens of bastards like those of that wretched wrench Elizabeth More, and her own sister Mary, his position to the Tudor Crown would never be secure. He needed a male heir, and Anne needed her boy to keep securing her position, that as of lately had become very feeble and unstable.

Her head throbbed. That question still beat in her mind: _'Why?'_ She had been so careful, so callous with her son's care, nothing could go wrong! And nonetheless it had.

And Anne was left with nothing, but a girl-child whom she loved and adored, but could never be the male heir her husband, Henry, wanted.

_'I am Queen, I should not be sad, there will be others, surely they must be ... my fall cannot be done this way, I will not fall! Not now when I have too much to loose, and loosing the King is something that I will never do, nor my daughter's position as 'true' Princess ... as long as there is breath in my body.'_

It was ten days before they sent news to the Queen, that her son had died of the sweating disease, because he was a baby he caught it in his lungs more quickly then other in his Household at Ludlow. They could not do nothing -all those so called doctors. And Anne was left to sob and to her uncontrollable anger at the first thing that moved. She was famous for it, her anger. When one scorned her -they would get the best of her, but now it was not the case. Anne was like a rabid dog without a leash, crying out to everybody that it was their fault at her son's Household for his death. If they would have watch them better -she had said enraged to the King, pleading and hoping to whatever Deity was hearing her prayers, that the King would buy the excuse and not blame her.

Unfortunately, it had not been so. Henry was mad true, but not at Anne, he was mad like her at their dead son's Household. For the moment it was the only token that Anne was content with.

As long as the King made no fuzz to her about his death, then all was okay with Anne, but her inner sadness for the loss of a child, was something -that not even an emotion of contentment could take away. It was here -that for the first time Anne really thought about how it must have felt to Isabella for _Her _failure of giving the King too many dead sons or still-born babies.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the short chapter but I am going to go to Disney an internship and yes guys I will be very busy working for the enterprise and the happiest place on the world. So I will not have internet until I check in on Monday, and maybe even late at night. Hope you enjoy this chapter, I wanted to sum up all the emotion into a clear, concise chapter with not too much to give and keep the crowd bored, but one that the readers know what is ahead and keep them guessing _how_ it will happen and the little details that are left to mystery.


	18. Uncertainties

**A/N:**

Hey guys here you go, Chapter 18, uncertainties, I hope you like it:D

I am sorry I took so much but I have been working with disney and tomorrow I will start training for safari and forest to be a tour guide, so I will try to update as much as I can, have fun you guys.

Read and review!!

* * *

_**Chapter #18 **_**Uncertainties.**

"_You know my friends, there comes a time when people get tired of being trampled by the iron feet of oppression ..." _– Martin Luther King, _**Address to the first Montgomery Improvement Association (MIA) Mass Meeting, at Holt Street Baptist Church **_**(**1955**)**

**--**

**( _Late _1530's)**

**Somewhere along in England, not too far away from our future ...**

_**Besides him, in the crowd **of his hanging, Suffolk his head basking in regret lay among the others. -His mouth glistering with sweat gaping open with blatant excitement._

_Next to him, the cadaverous visage of Norfolk, the uncle of the infamous Anne Boleyn, twice guilty of murder, for he had destroyed two people, one he hated because of his "humble" beginnings and the other who was soon to follow him._

_Me, Thomas More -infamous father of Henry the Eighth, and only real lover to Katherine of Aragon, Princess Dowager of England and mother to the monster that I helped bore. This was my destiny, to be recognized as a thief and murderer, and above all –sinner.  
Because of those sins, I put a hollow King on the throne –a King who did not deserve to call himself King, for he had no more royal blood than the real Tudors proclaimed to have had by their Plantagenet's and Lancaster's ancestry._

_But as I tried to outface Anne and her husband, my son – I found myself staring down at my feet. Not in fear, but in impotence –knowing there was nothing more to be done, but to await my horrible fate, at my son's hands, so soon to be stained with the blood of his father._

_Katherine, standing in the crowd with her false Spanish eyes and tears, was forced to examine me in an imagery of remembrance, as if my memory was so far away from her reach, upon the minutes that I lay waiting for my inevitable death. To die as a thief –I silently thought in dismay. My fate and my destiny put to me by God as a test to see if I was worthy to endure such pain –so I could later be received into Heaven._

_Thus is my destiny by my Lord, whether by Henry -or God himself._

* * *

Thomas shifted in his sleep and suddenly to the sound of his wife's voice -muffled with concern; he woke up from his nightmare.

He looked at Alice startled. He could barely make out her face. But he knew she was Alice. Who else could she be? … But the woman he shared _his_ **bed with**.

"Is everything alright husband? ... Thomas? … **Speak to me**!" –His wife exclaimed loudly, drowned in anxiety, and grief that her husband could be loosing his mind, over _whatever_ nightmare he might've had.

Her bleeding heart could not stand any more deception from her husband's part; he had already caused her too much grief and sleepless nights of praying, to whatever Deity was out there, for his safety –and for his family's. Hers always came last after his and his children.

* * *

**(**_**1534**_**) August 5****th****.**

**Dauncey States:**

Lady Elizabeth, as she was now called by every servant with pride an honor, strode through the white halls of her new home (courtesy of her brother for bearing him a son -a son who had not died like _Anne's_).

Elizabeth swayed in prayer, closing her eyes. She heard a soft giggle coming from behind; no doubt it was her son –Thomas _Fitzroy_ –who must have been hungry all this time. She went to pick him up and at the sight of him, she thought, _'how was it possible for people like Anne and her father to hate_ **her** _son?'_ He was better than all of them, she was certain of it. And one day when the skies would turn grey and the future of England would rest on the only male heir to the crown, no matter how bastard his background was, Thomas would rise and put himself on the throne –returning England to its humble roots once again, and not to the vain -and deadliest poisons that Anne had spread with her _new_ faith.

Elizabeth didn't really care for any faith, for her God was God and there was no point in discussing which fate was correct –for all called and worshipped God with the same beliefs and fear of sins.

There was nothing in Elizabeth that could make her believe in either faith, old or new. But it was her promise to her dying mother –her real mother– Joan More to believe in the faith of her father and her ancestors, no matter if she liked it or not. It was a promise to the only person who really loved her, not like her father who had taken interest in Meg only after their mother's death, her mother always looked after Elizabeth and after some time her father too. But in the end, he was more worried with _their education_ and their upbringing that he completely forgot about Elizabeth, and looked towards his new prospect to teach -his favorite Margaret More. Now Elizabeth was more devoted than ever to stay true to her word, as the last will of her mother to be fulfilled through her daughter's and grandson's hands.

* * *

**(**_**1534**_**)**

**August 10****th****.**

**Chelsea State, More Household****:**

Thomas More, a man once respected by his peers, whose company was sought by every monarch and King of Europe, whose books where the largest quantity sold in all realms of Christendom; now stood in shame and disgrace –alone in his own home with nobody to talk to, except his ever loyal wife Alice More.

He ended his pace to his study room, and sat comfortably in his old chair. He had no problem getting there, his legs were half way to being in complete recovery, but his eyes however; those were another matter. His eyes sight had not returned completely, and he felt frustrated that he still had to rely like a little child, for Alice and his _only _son John for help. They were nice whenever he asked for it, even when he did not, but he could sometimes sense their dismay at doing this too often. How could they not? They had their whole lives ahead of them (especially John) -the poignant emotions that ruled their lives did not have to end with his helplessness too; they could just go out there, living and breathing and maybe be happy in the end, letting him be and swallow in his _'old'_ pain.  
_'It's unfair, John does not deserve this …'_ –He thought miserably. His son needed to leave him, but Thomas knew that John was weak and very feeble to other's suggestions, and part of that was Thomas fault.

He had always pampered John as his youngest son and child in a way that he was sure _John_ would always need or call for his father to come in signs of trouble.

**It had made him dependant on Thomas**, but it was a dependence that he had caused on purpose, for he was afraid that when all of his daughters would leave him, and back when he loved Henry like a son –knowing he would not need him one day and find refuge in another Counselor– he would have nothing but a family member left with him that he could always rely on. That had been John, but his son had grown up too and soon he would get old and tire of him like _he_ did with his father and his iron ways of ruling Thomas' life and marriage.

He turned sharply to see John, his son looking at him with expectant and nervous eyes. He smiled at him, and reassured him nothing was wrong. But John, always being a callous young man, did not buy his excuse easily. The younger son of Thomas More was just as thin, brown –fair haired and pallid, and he even possessed some of his grandfather's and elder brother _Harry's_ likeness with his amusing grin. It was a fugitive likeness only, but sufficient enough to be confused with his elder brother in his younger years, and with his grandfather, John More the Elder.

His son, his youngest son –John was always denied the privilege of being presented with pride as his father's son, by his own father.** His** interest for his father was not that much as great as a son's interest for a father should be, in the case of having one who was one of the most (in the past) important and respect men in all of Christendom, and perhaps beyond.

John resented his father for leaving him behind, for always being with Henry, his elder half brother and not with him. He was his son too, and he had been a boy all these years who needed his father, for he was always behind the man: Supporting him, trusting him and above all –giving him an unconditional love like no other, one that not even his elder sister Meg could rival. Of course that was never noticed.

John's intents for his father's notice were always omitted by his brother's many _achievements_. In a way, Henry was never in the shadow of the Crown (as he claimed he was, when he told John in private two years ago), he was. John was the lamb to the slaughter, not Elizabeth, Meg or Cecilia. It was all and had always been him. John had seen many things; at least Elizabeth had been spared of many things by talking back to Father and being rebellious and rampant towards him when in front of his omnipresence. But for him, his youngest son, no such luck.

He was not as smart as Margaret or rebellious as his third youngest sister. John was just the _other_ child. He had always been presented or implied by Thomas, his own father, when he talked about him in that way. Presently a measure of calmness returned as he thought to his new sister. _His bastard sister._

One that had been sired from the seed of life that his father gave to his mistress, Katherine –the Princess Dowager, and forever bearer of his heart. No matter how much he denied it, John and the rest of his family knew with certainty, that the Princess would always have Thomas More ensnared with her beautiful clutches, at her feet. That was –John knew, how it was meant to be for them. They had fallen in love back before he ever met his mother, when they were two youngsters full of hope and ready to take out the world with their bare hands. No care in the world for everybody else but themselves and their love.

John's mouth and body shuddered anew, as he tried to take a grip for himself. After all, these so called _'revelations'_ should not have surprised him; since, he already knew them (a_s did everybody else in his Family Circle). _Including his siblings; from Henry –the King of England and _**"English Pope"**_ (as he was called nowadays by those who amused themselves in his authority to declare himself ruler over every soul on Earth and to be commanded to enforce this, by God himself, something John thought like his father –to be ridiculous and an insult to the religion they held dear, the _true faith_) to Margaret and Cecilia, his two elder sisters

They were all special, and he the shadow everlasting over them, hoping to catch a glimpse of the beautiful glow their souls and learning emanated to the public. Like two pure virgins, prize among men they resonated in the public eye, the perfect jewels to behold and lust for.

While John was only the _other one_ –a son of Thomas– no one to be admired, or stared at; there were too many boys like him who knew how to read and speak in flawless Latin. He was nothing to be musing over like his two elder sisters who held such capacity for learning, that rivaled that of men much higher and often many men scholars sought to converse with them in a game of intellectual ideas, as a test to challenge the girls and themselves to see just how good they were.

Sipping out of bed again and studiously avoiding the window, John More padded down the passages to his _bastard_ sister's nursery. Her name was chosen to be Alice, by none other (to the surprise of John and his father Thomas) that Katherine, her sworn enemy. He walked over to the little babe's crib, where the candles were lit and the nurse was trying (much in vain) to soother the fractious child back to slumber, but she failed miserably. And the child was found within seconds of John's arrival –crying and fussing over the nurse's strong and terse arms. He turned a sympathetic face to both of them -the nurse and the babe. He told the nurse to go elsewhere, that he would take care of little Alice, that she needed not to worry –and if his father asked, to tell him the truth and nothing more.

_'Little Alice'_ as she was affectionately called **surprisingly by his own stepmother and the babe's namesake** –Alice More, stood up or at least made a feeble and weak attempt to do it, at the sight of her first eldest sibling glancing her way, hoping to be impressed.

He quite got more than what he bargained for with his younger sister, Alice More –the girl was very agile and very quick to perceive things, more than even her namesake, whose eagle eyes were sure never to miss anything heading her way and her family's.

Alice was a beautiful child, and only now did John realize it. Wherever Katherine wallowed in her misery, whether in the More or in hell where she was soon to head to –if the rumors were to be true that her health was failing because of bearing this baby and her son's cruelty by causing her a slow death, by condemning her to live in that horrible place at Kimbolton Castle; she needed not to worry about her baby. John would always love this child –as long as she remained a baby.

The baby glanced up at John, too young and innocent to realize the situation that she was living in, or, _how _close she was -to be lost in childbirth, both _her_, and her mother. It was her father. _Who came like a Prince, _as in the Arthurian legends and other English folklore tales, to rescue her and bring her to his castle –where she would forever be guarded, as long as she possessed her innocence, from ruffians, schemers and her wicked brother who was on the tale for more blood.

A heavy fear and disgrace she could see wash over John, who looked to the stars in uncertainty, covering all of his face, save his mouth twirled up in a playful smile to Alice More his sister. However; the young baby –being ahead of her years and peers that surrounded her, could sense the tense atmosphere of gloom. And her brother's mute voice where only his eyes were sufficient to make notice that something was up ahead, and whatever it was; the baby was sure it was something not to be taken too lightly.

Someday, this baby would ask about her mother and John would have no choice but to tell her the truth. How? That remained the question. He could tell her the blunt truth, that her mother was a whore who nearly killed his own mother to death, by having stolen his father's heart. _'_**She** _was a liar and a cheater'_ –he could tell her, but nonetheless; the baby was **too innocent and fragile to hear that**, and her little eyes and ears could only see and hear so much. **Lady Mary Tudor**, his half-niece and declared bastard by her father, loved Alice with a passion. And she adored her grandmother. From her mouth, he was sure Alice was never to hear awful words of mistrust and ordeals of what others had to suffer to get through Katherine –Mary idolized her too much to get to those awful parts.** But John?**

He was another matter –entirely. The boy had no love or hatred for Katherine. In some ways, like his first eldest sister Cecilia, he could care less and leave those two –father and his mistress– alone. But he couldn't. It was not that easy.

Daily, John expected that his state of imprisonment with his father would end by _him_ recovering or sending John elsewhere to be alone with his loving wife –Cressacre More. But Alice's birth however; had freed him of that option. He could no longer go and roam freely in his own House with Anne. No matter how beautiful or desirable the girl looked to him –at present it was best to occupy his time with his sister, who was now all alone in the world, and her future still remained uncertain.

Still, his wife who was always a kind spirit like his father's _true_ and _second_ wife had been so far, Anne Cressacre-More stayed with him the entire time while at his father's Palace. Watching over Alice like she was one of her own –since they did not have children yet; and it was very difficult to adopt one, when their **last name** was scorned with hatred and disgust all over the Country and the rest of Christendom.

Somehow Anne Cressacre, who was standing next to John who did not note her presence as he carried his little sister in his loving arms; had imagined that he would one day –far ahead in the future, become an old man, bitter and heavy with anger for not ever having children. But today, on this day with her very eyes as witnesses, he proved her wrong. He loved his sister like he had loved no other, not even his father. And suddenly she thought with amusement; she had a new competitor, but that had no matter or jealous spot in her heart to replace the happiness she was feeling at watching John, her young husband –play in ecstasy with his younger sister.

* * *

**(1534) August 17****th**

**Kimbolton Castle, The More:**

Somewhere else, far along the reaches of Henry's castles, or Anne's scheming family, and Thomas' only Castle in Chelsea –hidden away in the Thames' forest; lay another castle, close to ruins and in darker shades of dirty stones, withered away by dirt and centuries of old history stained with blood and imprisonment by enemies that had been declared no longer useful to the Crown of England or Wales. That occasion had happened since two years time when Henry had declared his mother useless to his purposes. Punishment be served, he sent her to the More, to be spent the rest of her days until she was sure to rot and die, by her son's and Anne's family hands.

The only thing that Katherine refused to do, was to admit surrender, for so man depended on her strength, and of those many, not only were Thomas and Mary Tudor, but also her daughter Alice More, whom she had named like Thomas' wife Alice, as a way to show the woman that despite all their fights and disputes for the same man, she held no grudge over her.

Alice was a _good_ woman, and only now Katherine saw that. **Too late,** **but her heart refused to go down in flames without making amends to the **_poor_** woman** whom Katherine had caused too much pain, by stealing away her husband's love and store it in her heart –never letting it go, and then sleeping with Thomas on January the 5th (she remembered so well like it was just yesterday –his strong arms and kisses all over her body and swollen lips; his scent never leaving her body, even when she bore the small girl in secret.) was the last straw that had caused more hurt to the woman than everything else she ever did with Thomas' behind her back

**She bided time**, Katherine in all her almighty knowledge did. Judging that by the situation her small daughter's position in the world was uncertain, but she –Katherine– felt that if it was true what Thomas' letters said about his youngest son being affectionate to young Alice; then there was no need for indulgence of her part to protest for her daughter's safe return to her arms. She was so much safer in Thomas' son's younger arms.

* * *

_A/N:_ _I put John's POV as his wife who is very young too because they are both very inexperienced with children, now judging by the show I will go along with his age there instead of real life, so he is very, very, very young along with his wife, one year lesser than him, they are very inexperienced, and John as in the show and in real life was not that much of book smart as his two sisters, but nonetheless he is jealous and always wants to make his father proud, so here even though he sees Katherine as the main cause for his mother's death, he grows to love his small half sister because it is his sister after all, and whatever Kat did, the girl is blameless, but remember the phrase as long as she is a baby, whatever that means you will decide and go see what will hapen.:D_

_I will update tomorrow a bigger one!_


	19. Part One: Interlude

**A/N:**

_I noticed I had some grammar errors in Chapter 18 and also dates, I already corrected those. Enjoy Chapter 19 got so huge I am not kidding over 30000 words so I decided to break it down, summarize it in three parts also big and it is summarized and complex but you understand the conflict and it is easy to understand. With explanations and you see more emotions in these chapters up ahead I PROMISE even more than the previous ones!_

_Also chapter 19 part one and so on are called interludes, because it comes back to John's but mainly Thomas' emotions, also Chapuys, Brereton scary guy and his mind was really dark place to get into, if you don't believe me just ask reganx._

_But overall you get to see each character as human and try to understand the why of their actions._

_Enjoy everybody!_

_Thanks to all my reviewers, aestheticnarcissist, ladyjax999, reganx, ladyredvelvet, boleynofaragon1, lemondropseverus. Thank you all and this will set many things clear horror many horror, tears, laughs and also supernatural experiences but romance up ahead. But don't get me wrong also the shadows of death._

* * *

_**Chapter 19: **_**Part One**_**: **_**Interlude**

_**"**__All of the moment that already passed, try to go back and make them less . All of the things we wanted each other to be, we will never be, that's wonderful, that's life, that's you baby, this is me baby: We are, we are ... in love, bring in the love ... Try." -_Nelly Furtado, _**Try**_**(**_**2004**_**)**

**--**

**1534 ...**

**Diary of Sir John More (II)****: **_**July 4th.**_

_A long time ago I would have asked my father why is it that he always saw me like __this__ big failure in life. Why I was not that important or as cunning as Elizabeth More, my oldest sibling -but the younger of our girls._ "There is always so much I wanted to say to father" _I said that to my wife Anne today. She is really beautiful and often comprehensive to my pains, the ones in my heart I mean._

_But I think she is afraid of me from time to time. Maybe because she thinks I will grow to fearful of others and become strange with gay behaviour, and in the process hurt _others.

_Like my sister Alice More._

"But I would never do that"_-I whisper now to the winds. The winds of change no matter how much they carried power and ambition within little Alice; I will never harm her._

_That I promise._

"But can it be said the same for your sister's mother John?"_ -My wife whispered, and I grew silent; not knowing what to say._

_Probably the answer I didn't want to give her was 'yes'. But that answer would've been a lie. Because I do want to hurt _her_ -the woman who had hurt my mother so much in the past._

_And even now ... her mouth and sad eyes continue to hurt my _true_ mother's memory._

* * *

**1534, July 16th**

**More Household.**

Alice More-Middleton was hurrying to get through the doors of her home at Chelsea.

Somebody, whoever it was, was knocking on their door (hers and Thomas -her husband) and she went to respond to it. Answering it immediately she saw it was the Imperial Ambassador and the Duke of Suffolk, Charles Brandon, at the door waiting for her invitation to pass onto her home.

She let them in, not caring for what news they might bring from the the exterior or from the world that she and Thomas were no longer part of.

"Lady Alice" Charles Brandon, the first to speak acknowledged her presence. Not impressed by his bow of courtesy Alice passed his hand and instead offered it to the next man, Eustace Chapuys -the Imperial Ambassador from Spain.

Chapuys took it gladly, knowing how much dislike there was from Sir Thomas More's wife toward the King's best friend, the Duke of Suffolk, Charles Brandon, who Alice was still not convinced he was reformed in his _'old'_ ways to serve faithfully his _new_ wife Katherine Brandon. Daughter of the King's mother's best friend, Maria Salinas. A women as shrewd and bright as the former Princess of Spain, but often simpler in her way of thinking, yet she stuck by Katherine's side all the way through her suffering and hardship when her future in England seemed hollow -by the slow procession of her marriage to Arthur.  
Even now that she faced a new hardship, Maria stuck with her all the way.

Never once leaving her side.

Sometimes Chapuys wondered if that was why the Lady Alice was often jealous of Katherine. Because she had more than what Alice had.

She had love, friendship, allies in the most powerful places, but above all; she had the love of Sir Thomas More. Alice's husband.

And that hurt more than any knife or wound to her heart and soul. Yet Chapuys; beyond acknowledging this, often saw no reason why Lady Alice More should keep this envy towards Katherine. _There was nothing to envy -_Katherine had nothing other than Sir Thomas More that Lady Alice More could want.

She had enemies in the greater circles of power, both men and women who envied her power and courage for battle. Most of these circles were people who strongly believed that no women should have this power and were mad because she had had it for so long, "_at her son's expense"_ -they often said.

But above all it was Katherine's destruction and shame to the public eye, and even to her family circle in Spain -that Alice could never comprehend that a circumstance like that, was nothing to envy, but to pity and rejoice in it like any other enemy.

_'But thank to heaven'_-Chapuys thought in relief- Alice was not one to hold a grudge_ for too long_. Yet her surrogate son, John, was. He was found to lately speak in favor of Anne, yet he often contradicted his speeches by being protective around the Lady Mary whom he proclaimed he loved above all people like one of his _own._

The Imperial Ambassador decided to break the ice between the Duke and the Lady Alice by being the next to speak. "Lady Alice we mean no disrespect here, but we want to ask for your help to talk back to Sir Thomas" He made a brief pregnant pause at the woman's cold and neutral stare -"He has not answered **His** _Majesty's_ letters or others sent by **His** Majesty's friends. He is already distressed that _something_ _might have__ happen_ to **Your** husband."

_'My husband or Katherine's?' -_She thought sourly, yet she kept that thought to herself, for the protection of her family. "Then tell the King he needs not to worry, and that I will not as long as there is breath in my body **let any harm come to the man ****I**_love_. Tell _Your hollow _King that!" With that being said, Alice left the two stunned man behind with their mouths dry.

She had more important things to do then to discuss with _learned_ men about what to do regarding her husband's _secret matter. Why couldn't they leave her alone ... all of them! _She and Thomas just wanted to live alone with each others company, and all of these men often came here to disturb them off their peace.

It was not fair. And when Thomas said she had to keep calm for both their sakes, she grew angry like a rabid dog that her husband (even if he could see not see well still) made a small comparison between her and the King's wife, Anne Boleyn.

The tide of her wretched misery still hadn't paid off. And often she found herself immersing in prayer like her husband Thomas did when he was alone in their bed, and was sure she was asleep not to listen his grief and bitter tears of angry misery because of what _his 'son' _had done to him. Another time she would have feigned ignorance and not listen to his rants and let him be. But she couldn't do that no longer, it was just not possible. Thomas needed her as much as she needed him.

And both had each other to rely on.

* * *

_**A/N:**_ _There you go, small chapter I know but hope u like it, another one long ahead, the chapter 19 second part, third part will be longer yet no longer than second part._

_I have been having trouble cause of my roommates, they have been three of them kind of nasty and often if they do something it is alright, but if I do something similar to their mistakes it is all out on me._

_**As for John quick note this was made because he will be important after his father's time, he will want to carry out with the importance of his father's name.**_

_And with my roommates ... Yet I have to tolerate it, I fight it, but we have to get along since I am here till January._

_Anyway cheers to all:D_


	20. Part Two: Is The Beginning The End?

**A/N:** Here you go folks, I have been working in Disney in wildlife animals' forest and it is good, probably you will see me there if you ever go visit. And especial thanks to all my reviews, _BoleynofAragon21_! _AestheticNarcissist, Girl_ you have been amazing never missing reviews and yours great too read her story perks of a monarch really hilarious and so good, _lemondropseverus_ who her story introduces a new soon to be queen of England? Katherine who is the girl to be on the level of Henry, _ReganX_ who hasn't been around here these past days, like 4 or five but her past reviews have been great too and girl read her story on the edge of a golden world and her other story three people in a marriage good too, also _ladyjax999_ and her reviews thanks very much girl, her story unexpected love which shows an unusual couple but good nonetheless and very breathtaking, well planned and showed, read all their stories, and mine too.

Read and review remember, I won't be updating as often as before since I am working on Disney and doing training. Love you all :d

Review, Enjoy the story: The chapter will get you on the edge of your seats and as reganx's on the golden world where new conflicts will arisen, a new past and dark scary secrets:

**The first part focus on the Present: While** the second part (this one) of this Chapter 19 Part Two, focus on the Past, week before Thomas' punishment and when Cecilia still shared a bond with her father.

Enjoy sorry for not updating folks:P

* * *

_**Chapter 19: **_**Is the Beginning the End?**

"_The apple cannot be stuck back on the Tree of Knowledge; once we begin to see, we are doomed and challenged to seek the strength to see more, not less." –_Arthur Miller, _**The Saturday Evening Post **_**(**February 1964**)**

**--**

Katia Von Tassel –the girl's (Mary) governess looked after her, troubled. Until this moment her life had been moved in orderly fashion by her best friend the Duchess Locksley, to teach **her** daughter -the young Mary, everything she needed to learn to get ahead in life and not be a victim like her mother (of men).

Katia was looking at her –the young Mary– with her violet eyes disturbed, doubtful at times; that Mary was too young but to keen on her senses more than any adult, and that was what scared Katia the most. Mary was a silent girl, happy but silent. Her life revolved around calculations and ambitions, not in the fun and games mentality children her age shared.  
It took only one trip alone with Mary Roper, to realize, she wasn't like other girls. The way she spoke, talked, and danced where the way Courtiers and Mistresses to the King tended to their affairs.

It was then that Katia realized, that for a girl like Mary, who seemed little and very fragile, she was ahead of her years, and ahead of others -including her own uncle, the King.

* * *

**1534, July 25th**

**More Household:**

As Tanya Heron - (the youngest daughter to **Cecilia More**) - hopped around the gardens of Chelsea, she was accidentally encountered with one of the poisonous ivies at the end of _their _(her grandfather's and step grandmother's) gardens, where the vast Thames' forest started. Harboring strange and odd creatures at night only murmured to have existed in fairy tales or 'old' pagan myths that adults used to scare off little children to make them behave themselves.

Tanya -being an inquisitive girl, let go of her interest at the garden's Ivy, she found it much fun to go around exploring in a forest where no one had gone before, those who did, had never returned, and _some_ –according to the legend told on by generation, from older cousin to younger- who **did** returned; were said to be possessed by little pigmy demons, whose ancient powers of sin and hatred would burn so deep in one's soul -that in the end, it would tear it limb by limb, leaving nothing but an empty void behind.

She read an old letter her mother had sent to her Aunt Margaret. Back when they were still friends.

Satisfied as she finished the letter; that the love between older and younger sister still existed, no matter how ambiguous it might seem to Tanya at times, she went to play into the forest, with her **Step-Grandmother** following her trial with her screams and reprimands –begging to come back into the House _or else_.

* * *

**1534 **_…_

**Diary of Sir John More (II)**_**:July 19th. (Meeting with my wife's brother)**_**:**

_When I was little, my father would use to tell me bed-stories, and often when I and Elizabeth were pretending to fall asleep; we would see our mother -_**our real mother**_- kissing our father in a passionate kiss.  
Yet I always knew _whom_ he loved.  
Somebody else.-I often told myself when I wallowed in my misery. 'Wallowed' was a word I used often, even today when I feel guilty or sad about something. And there is no longer my mother's soft hand to take the pain away; and Anne -who is the sweetest soul on the face of the Earth-, is not always available to meet my childish needs. For inside I am still a child, hidden away by my adult fears, even though she and I are still two teenagers trying to make our way into the world._

_Alice has been a great surrogate mother for us so far, and even if I know that these meek fears are nothing compared to those of my other older siblings, which are pretty much everybody else (I hate being the youngest sibling!), I still fear over my soul as father fears about his daily. Yet, I think that father or "papa" has been really worried about my bastard sister Alice More. Who bares the same name as my surrogate mother, Alice Middleton-More; but _she_ was neither mad nor annoyed that _that_ woman's child got named after her. For _that_ woman's child is my sister; even though a bastard. And also, _her _husband's youngest child so far, even before me. Therefore –no matter the child's status– she already loves her, and is completely devoted to her, as I am to her._Katherine_, __**the woman**_** who had practically ruined all our lives!**_  
For my mother _–_no matter __**how **_**hard**_ she tried; could never fill the empty void of resentment, for not being __**his**__ (my own father's) 'golden' Princess. The sad imprisoned Princess, who was now in need of her Knight in shining armor. _

(Might be getting a little bit off side track of this date, but I feel have to say it nonetheless. Like matter of life or death business) I remember this one time, that my dad actually got to say sorry for all his sins, but I was very little and hardly understood, but I was sure it was because of

_**Her**__ Thomas More. _

_But I was glad for that. Even if I know I ought not to be happy that he won't be there to save her. For he is now more worried about his _true_ wife -Alice More, than that _Spaniard Whore,_ Princess of Katherine of Aragon. The Princess who each day as it passes, claims without a sign of dignity that she is the most humble, the most loyal, and the most cloistered woman there could be in Christendom -regarding her body and her "_Godly_" values._

"All lies!"_ I spat as I sat in a corner of my half brother's Palace -alone by myself.  
I came to plead to him the case of my half sister, his true full blooded sister. Alice More. Who was such a sweetheart; and the most pure babe that could ever be born by two people who sometimes, I swore were the most imperfect, and hypocrite people that ever walked on the face of the Earth._

_Yet, little Alice, undergoing every hardship each day -when she was called a bastard by her siblings and the people who took care of her (Except me and my wife Anne), needed all the help she could get so she could be prevented of walking a lifetime path of excruciating agony, by having the branding of a 'bastard'. Something that no child deserved, no matter how much _that_ child, my half-sibling, looked awfully like _that_ woman -Katherine of Aragon. _

_As I spotted the Queen Anne -who made her first private appearance to me- I held a hidden breath of nervousness, compressed inside my chest that escaped from within me -each time I neared her presence. I could not help but admire her beauty; a truly dark but complex beauty whose eyes were 'truly hooks for the soul'._

_--_

_**1534**_**, July 19th.**

**Whitehall Palace**

**(Actual Meeting with the "**_**May Queen" **_**Anne)**

As Anne approached the youngest son of Thomas More; she could not help but notice the young man's likeness to his and Henry's father. The _old_ ex-Chancellor, whose name was now scorned with malice and shame through out all of Christendom, after his longtime affair with Katherine, was exposed unto everybody.

Anne could even remember that old _hag's_ face of Katherine, revolting around in disgust and fear when Thomas More, her old time _lover_ and **real** husband

She culled over the memory of her own mother, once saying to a young child that had been Anne, that the youngest son of Thomas was always confident, pure and very intelligent. But this man, standing in front of her -was nothing of that sort. He was rather short compared to his own father, very skinny, handsome in his own way, but very shy and timid to greet any person.

Anne came to wonder if he really was the son of the _infamous _ex-Chancellor, but she guessed, he might be; since their resemblance was striking as it was next to his own half-brother Henry's. Who also shared quite a likeness to his own father Thomas –but as far as likeness went, that is all it would ever reach. In between the two brothers; in none of their two spirits, their father's courage lived. It was rotten deep inside, so occupied with staying hidden, while other vanities kept dominating the two brothers, in different ways.

Henry was strong, manly; and **much** to her distastes –a bit of a player, while John was shy, but, she could see that like Henry he cared about his self image very much, for he wore the most expensive clothing and washed himself in a very clean way; much like her own loved one, Henry did. It was the first time she ever noticed this astounding similarity between he two; and that did not make her feel any better about meeting Thomas' youngest son, John More -who was still standing before her, shaking like the waves of the ocean as if she was the storm causing them.

"Your _Majesty_." He greeted, bowing his head before her. _'A little late'_ -she thought sourly. The Queen noticed just how much John was very _late_ with everything, including greeting his own Queen, who every subject was supposed to bow his or her head with the utmost respect. For they were not greeting just any person; but the Head of the Church's wife! And such a bow was to be done with humility and respect, or if not, than they were just not loyal or either she was not _that_ important to them.

"John" -She said after a few seconds; leaving the boy –John– to be intimidated with _her grandiose_ presence. But he knew that even if this woman could be the pinnacle of his doom. She was no more doom than Katherine. Who was the main cause for all of his father's failed marriages? Her nose in _their_ business; never ceased to interfere, and it was time _someone _put a stop to it. That someone –as far as it went to John's judgment- could only be Anne. _The woman_ -to John's judgment- was **somebody** as aggressive and tough enough –perhaps even tougher- to take on Katherine by herself. Unlike his mother, his stepmother, who still worshipped his father to no end, and because of that worship –she dared not to go close to the wayward Princess, because of her respect to her husband. Who was in reality both _their_ husband.

John's mouth began to move, but barely any sound could be heard. Anne in her low level of patience, made a great attempt not to launch herself over the boy and choke him, to see if maybe then, she would get some word out of the miserable boy.

To Anne; John was nothing more than a spoiled boy, by his father and the memory of his dead mother. A mother who had died when he was young, much like Anne's. In that they remained in the same peril, doomed by the memory of a ghost mother they barely knew or would ever know.

But at least, John –as he was called after his grandfather– was somebody who had been lucky enough, to get a stepmother who had been as good as any natural mother would have been to him. It was no secret to her that she knew this because of what the King, her husband and love; Henry, often said to her about his _half-siblings_ relationship with their mother, Alice.

John for his part, not aware of his half sibling's wife deadly stare, bowed to her presence at last and kissed her hand as she extended it to him. He was not afraid of her, he decided. He was rather in desperate _awe_ of her –for it all depended, he decided; that he would convince her to do _something_ about Katherine.  
So he swore under his breath, decided after all –that he was going to confront his brother's wife and if necessary convince her, even _plead to her_ so she could offer her powerful hand to deal with Katherine once and for all. He hated that woman –he decided. He thought he didn't, but he did. He never though that in his life he would ever hate, but he did …

He hated Katherine. Hated her with a passion; like he had never hated or felt any feeling as strong as _hatred –_the only thing to beat it; was resentment.

Not even _his love_ for his wife and father measured his hatred that far.

It seemed so natural to him. Something nothing else that could be replaced with it, but more hatred and resentment against the Princess Dowager, and his desire to see the world get rid of her – so she could finally leave them, and his family alone so they could live in peace for the first time in so long.

"Your Majesty" –He acknowledged, as he swore further allegiance to Her Seal and Power when he gave her the humblest words that he would forever be in her service, and in her hands if _only_ –he said– she would accomplish her promise, as said in her letter prior to his visit, to get rid of Katherine's influence with the rebel faction and forever set her apart from the More family, on pain of death.

It was something not easy to do, for Anne, still held some heart at the old Princess Dowager's care, but it was Anne's ambition for her Power –and to secure _**that**_ power for her daughter, Elizabeth and any male heir she _might_ bring forth into the world for the future– that had been the ultimate doom responsible for tearing apart their once close relationship as surrogate mother and daughter.

--

**(**_**1534**_**)**

**August 31st.**

**The More**

Nearly three months now since Katherine had agreed to give up her daughter to Thomas' _true "family"_; she had been left alone with her solitary thoughts and presence, with only the Lady Elizabeth to keep her company –her ever faithful friend, '_her only friend in the world' –_she thought solemnly as she held a small miniature portrait of her only son, Henry.

It had been done back when he was nine years old, so full of life and ready for any adventure that life might settle at his path. He could _take it all_ –he once said with excitement to his young mother, but nonetheless; fear, the main weapon Henry always relied to quiet his enemies –was visible in his eyes as he said the valiant phrase to his mother.

His expression would not show it, but his eyes (eyes that only a mother would be able to read) betrayed the rest of his facial expressions, which showed a brave tot and valiant –devoid of any fears. But fear, had always been Henry's main enemy. It consumed him, until the _little_ Henry, her little son, was no more and in there was replaced by the flesh of a grown man, with no mercy for his father, sister, or mother.

That was **who** Henry was now.

That **was** her son.

Katherine was just rising from her bath, in poor conditions –_'as always'_, she thought sourly– helped by her friend the Lady Elizabeth with her strong arms to her bedroom. But this burden did not come before the security of her family; her two granddaughters (not counting Elizabeth –Thomas child's illegitimate son by her son Henry.): starting with her proud and brave granddaughter of Mary Tudor, who had been reduced to be named a bastard, and not just any bastard; but her mother's bastard!... and then there Elizabeth, who for a second time as Katherine thought of her, managed to captivate the old Princess' heart who at the moment kept the illusion that Elizabeth and Mary would one day rule together. It was her granddaughter Elizabeth, and only her –who had received the Angle version name of her mother, Isabella the Great Catholic Queen of Spain, and responsible for building the greatest Empire that walked the face of the Earth. The Spanish Empire and her grandson, her nephew –to become the Holy Roman Empire and Leader of all the Christian Faith and vast domains from across the seas where new lands had recently been discovered.

She had without a doubt, a certainty that Elizabeth will grow up to do justice to her great grandmother's name, Isabella, Queen of Spain –Consort of Aragon, and in her own right Queen and Ruler of Castile.

The Commissioners of her son, had dispatched to her small Prison-Castle a commission to further investigate Katherine, and see if they could convict her under charges of practicing adultery with a married man –whom _she_ (according to her son's Inquisitors and mainly –that fanatical Protestant to _his_ cause, Archbishop of Canterbury's Thomas Cranmer) had no reason to be with him in the first place. For one, it was because of his low status and two, because members had been considering that for others to further hate Thomas More, once a prominent Catholic Figure used to excel the values of the 'Old' Church; could now be used against it, and against to Katherine, to, expose her 'corrupted' ways at bewitching Thomas away from his wife's bed and into hers instead

It was a silly and unfounded accusation, but one that was made by his son, the King. And if the King –this she learned from her father– made an accusation, even if it was based on no proof; their was no salvation for yourself to get rid of it, regardless if it was silly or not.

The King was King and period. Nobody discussed the subject and you had to live with it, because it was the only reality you had, and there was nothing worse –Katherine thought in sadness– that to sink oneself into an unreal world where everything that happened, you, pretended it to be okay. Much like the reality her son had created for England. One where he called all the shots, where nothing bad happened and where the world was his and there was no more absolute Power than his.

A dangerous reality, but one imposed by Anne. And sometimes Katherine often thought that it was also imposed by her, _his_ (Henry's)mother, who had always _pampered_ and pressured him to the point of breaking his good will, to become a good leader.  
But was it worth it? Was this Henry really worth the entire wait…and all the efforts and dry blood that Katherine had shed at birth when she finally bore her son?

Was it really worth it? '_Was it all worth it?'_ Katherine kept asking herself.

* * *

**(**_**1534**_**)**

**September 2nd.**

Chapuys the Imperial Ambassador from Spain to England came to the More Household on his own personal business to check on the King's bastard sister. Alice More.

He as Thomas and Katherine of Aragon –The King's rightful parents– knew that this child was no more Tudor than the person sitting (or should he say _'usurping'_) on the throne right now. This child was just as legitimate as her brother was. For in Cannon Law even if the old Queen of Castile broke down the marriage; it could be argued that _they_ (Sir Thomas More and Katherine of Aragon) were still married and never divorced properly since it was all done in secret, without their consent but of their parents. Alice could be named also a Princess of Spain or _'Infanta'_ if the situation required it.

'_But it doesn't'_ –and that was something Chapuys had to remind himself often. That no matter how much Royal Blood Alice had on her bloodstream because of her mother; to the public she will always be regarded as a bastard, and the King's mother's shame.

* * *

A/N: There you go. Remember to Read and Review.

See ya


	21. Part Three: Final Interlude: Thomas

_**A/N:**_

Here you go sorry for the long wait!!

I want to give thanks to AesthethicNarcisist, by the way I have pictures for your fan-fiction and the new one how Thomas More lost his martyrdom, I will scan them next week, for Regan X thanks for helping me in Pain To No End, and I have pictures for Edge of The Golden World and Three People in a Marriage, in anime style hope you like it!

To LadyJax999 girl I have pictures for your story too Unexpected Love, thanks to all of you my reviewers you have all been so great, for BoleynAragon21 I have a picture for u too!!

Enjoy everybody.

* * *

_**Chapter 19: **_**Final Interlude**

_"Endurance. Belief. Patience. Hope. These are the key words of our existence." _Brian Herbert and Kevin Anderson (_Authors_), _**Dune: The Machine Crusade**_

--

**1534, September 2nd**

**The More:**

Elsewhere while Katherine was slowly pacing in her study, reading the old letters she had written to her Prince Arthur before she came from Spain to England; was Thomas More on his bed watching his wife sleep tightly on their bed while her muffled noises of sorrow died out as with her cries.

It had been so long since they talked, and when they did now –all that remained was angst and sorrow from a woman who had been so aggressive to win Thomas back from the clutches of what she called to be a "_**witch**_" that **Katherine of Aragon,** -and so madly in love with her _Prince_. It obviously tore down her soul to know that she was not the one Thomas loved.

At first ever since all these years, she often thought it was because of her sharp tongue, her _un-womanly_ways to always seek a fight with her husband whenever she did not see fit the way he "**did**" things outside of their home. But that was not it. It was Katherine, it had always been Katherine.

And Alice could not win against that image. A woman from Spain, so proud, so dignified and beautiful even after all these years. A woman who won the Battle of Flodden for her son, while Alice was only a woman enraged by pity and treated with charity by a husband who still in his heart burned the passion of love with his '_old_' "Princess".

She knew it was time to accept the fact that she would never win.

It was not her battle to fight, **it was Thomas'**_._He was not doing a good job of course, but then again Thomas rarely did these days, ever since that miserable son of his had whipped him to no end.

Maybe in the end, that was how everything had to go, with him putting his head in the block for his son while others suffered at his expense.

* * *

**(**_**1534**_**) **

**September 19**

**More Household:**

Funeral Services were being held for one of the youngest More children. A little girl that Cecilia had bore some time ago. A little girl of two years old, who was barely a child. _'She was so lovely'_–Thomas thought with anger as he saw the small crypt being carried away by his servants and ready to be buried into his Family Cemetery (the same where his father was) where she would rest in peace alongside his other Family Members.

It was not fair, but it was not of his own decision to question, God had wanted it like that –he kept telling himself at nights where he saw desolation in the arms of his youngest daughter Cecilia and her husband, who was no more happy to see his father-in-law then him seeing his son-in-law.

It was a time for all Mores to grieve and for all to give thanks to God (much like they used to when he was a father of four children that always stuck together by his and Alice's side) for keeping them alive. But still many were not convinced as More said his prayers, even better than those of the Priest present at the Funeral Service. Some of them even thought of him selfish to not cry and instead give words of comfort and false promises of happy endings.

It was an insult to them all, but an insult they had to take because in reality –all of their lives were running in circles.

John More; who was standing next to his sister Cecilia, who had not shed a tear ever since the death of her daughter (just two days ago), stood tall and for the first time proud, that he was among those who had not suffered the curse of the Mores.

His life was not exactly perfect. Far from it, perhaps his life was the one who you could look at it and cry out of pity and then laugh out of how ridiculous he was._ 'But at least'_ –he thought with a happy smile,_'it is perfect just the way it is' … 'No problems, no angry wives and no dead children since me and Anne have not one yet, but when we do, I know with certainty; everything will be alright … I just know'_

With a sigh he retired from the sad sight and went over to his wife –who was sitting next to Alice More the Elder, while also holding little baby Alice in one hand, waiting for her to be asleep. He silently told her that it was time to go, Anne agreed with no protest and went to her father-in-law to give him one kiss on the cheek before leaving –then she was surprised when he told her to take little baby Alice to her home with John. That she would be safer there.

Anne did not know what that meant, but surely it had nothing to do with the "**Oath"** that his son had recently published, making all of his noble and most humble subjects in England take it as a sign of Loyalty and Submission?

'_It couldn't be, could it?_'–She thought with fright as Thomas More's face showed no fear or remorse for letting his baby go away. His pale stricken face, and half blind eyes looked at Alice as if it was the last time she would ever see his baby again. A broken father whose broken face was hidden away by a smile of comfort to trust his smallest child into the arms of his old ward, Anne.

_**Katia Von Tassel**_, Mary Roper's Governess hired by Anne andtrusted with the child by her old friend during Court, the girl's own mother, Margaret Locksley-Roper turned to look at Anne with a sympathetic smile. Knowing that the girl was in good hands.

Unlike some may thought, Katia was not evil. Nor was she a heretic. In fact she much favored the Catholic Religion, she only saw it with different eyes than others. For one she thought it could be better without those symbols of Mary shaming women to the core by telling them they had to be pure, when men were the most impure creatures and often they strutted around the Courts of many places showing off their many "_conquests_" of women. But they didn't get told anything, on the contrary they were defended by the '_old_' Church. And that was something Katia did not agree, but she was not a protestant. Far from it.

She had seen what they did to Catholics, far worse than what catholics had done unto protestants who they erroneously called_ "Heretics". _She often saw the flame of passion, the flame of hunger for blood, and the flame of pride in their eyes. She had seen it with Archbishop Cranmer who had started out as an honest man, because unlike all the rest of the hypocrite Protestants and old Catholics; he really believed in the cause, but now he had been stained with the old dirty vermin that was "Politics" turning himself into a Politician more than a holy man of the "new" Church itself.

He preached tolerance for his cause, yet he just by seeing his eyes you could see he wanted to burn others for not supporting the cause. And the resentment against the Catholics, as well as his own advancement and ambition had caused many to die in hunger while he preached it was for the "greater good". It was something that disgusted Katia, but at the same time it was something that often made Katia realize (that even if she loved "God") that maybe if people did not believe in God, they would all be better off.

But she did not have time to think of what the future would be if that happened, as she saw Thomas More go over to Alice and silently telling her it was time for them to talk, alone. On that room where he invited her –was also the Imperial Ambassador, Eustace Chapuys. A man who despite Thomas More now being the most hated and shamed man on England by his own King, still talked and often frequented the More Family. Although sometimes Katia thought it was more out of pity for the Lady Alice than the friendship he had shared with Sir Thomas More.

Eustace Chapuys looked at Lady Alice More with respect and pity, and it was not that he did not find her attractive, for him she was. But for him it was more the fact that she remained so lonely, and often she reminded him of his cousin who had fallen so madly in love with a man that promised her fidelity, and instead gave her constant nights of heartaches. He did not love Alice More in the way a lover or a husband loved a woman, but in the way a brother loved a sister who constantly ached for love.

--

Alice entered the room where her husband and the Imperial Ambassador where. She knew that man came for her mostly. Because he cared for her in a way a brother cares for a sister he loves. But other than that, there was no more. And she was glad … because despite everything that happened, she loved Thomas. And she was not one of those silly and stupid women who would let go of her husband that easily. She was not one of "those" who quited. She may be a looser, but like Katherine –never a quitter.

One of the lessons she had taught herself, never to quit despite history and people tell you otherwise.

And so she did, she never quit.

She listened to Chapuys talk, silently telling Thomas how it was better to let go of the child Alice and how it also made the situation better for them. But when he got to the part where Thomas had to swear the Oath of Supremacy –as his son liked to call it- Thomas said no.

He said he never would.

And Alice got mad and went to Thomas, smacking him right in the face, not even bothering to hide her anger as he said sorry to her twice this time. "Well **Thomas More **you have managed to make me sick with worry for the last time … have you not **CONSIDERED **Husband what the Ambassador Chapuys is saying? Here in your presence? … or are you just too selfish to notice?" She asked with worry.

Thomas shook his head. "Alice I am not blind. You must know that I do not willingly seek martyrdom, but if the occasion calls for it … my faith must be put to the test, I did many things wrong already, this is something I cannot let go. I am sorry."

"What faith? Do you really want to be killed?!" She asked enraged. Her husband was eyeing her with his cheap grim, attempting to fix her chagrin with his sense of humor. But he failed as Alice did to convince him to sign before the King –her son- would notice and it would already be too late for him and his family (Including her).

"I do not! Know this –I do not want death, but it is time Henry knows somebody that it is not afraid. Alice! People are afraid and the Country is afraid. But I am not, I know that Henry is only confused, I may not trust him as before, but I love him and I know that nothing bad will happen, and even if it does … Henry knows I will be safe as I walk the stairs above."

He said with so much security and scrutiny that Alice couldn't find a way to debate his argument.

Chapuys, who was on the other end, did want to debate him –but he had too much respect for Thomas More, that he too, could not.

* * *

**A/N**: There you go folk the last Part of Chapter 19, now all the pieces fit and stay tuned as TBPII is close to end, more chapters left but the end is still approaching!! Very near.

The baby of Cecilia is the one Cecilia presented to Margaret when she told her sister she should marry Locksley.

I put some of the names in bold and italics as before to summarize and emphasize the importance and how they are vital for future chapter and to the sequel and future sequels.


	22. Time is a Funny Thing

**A/N:**

Sorry I have not updated. Things here in Disney went rough, but nonetheless okay

Also _ReganX, LemondropSeverus, BoleynofAragon21, Aestheticnarcissist, LadyRedVelvet and Ladyjax999_ and all of you my reviewers and main reviewers you know who you are! thank you so much for your reviews and your supports.

_**ReganX -**_and also the rest of my fanfiction authors who have emailed me and given me PM on the web through fanfiction, I will respond to you! however; I have a cold and my stomach hurt also I cannot speak I don't know how I will be able to work tomorrow, plus my head I feel it bad ... :S But don't worry I can manage, I just need rest, that is why all day I was in the house and the only reason I could upload these chapters easily was because I had them finished weeks before I only had to edit them, but still my cold is really bad and I still have to work tomorrow 9 hours, in total 8 hours because my rest is one hour, so I will try to answer those tomorrow.

_**Lemondropseverus -**_and **_reganx, LadyredVelvet_**-I will answer those tomorrow, and aestheticnarcissist I realize I have some unaswered reviewsreplys I will answer those too. Thank you and guys thankyou, reganx thanks a lot for helping me in the last chapter of pain to no end.  
**_Aesthetic Narcissist_** -thankyou also for your advise. **_LadyJax999 -_**thank you so much for your advise too, thanks girl!

And I wish you all luck, thanks once again and there is very cool forums on the tudor sections be sure to check them out.

* * *

_**Chapter #20: **_**Time Is a Funny Thing …**

"_Time crumbles things; everything grows old under the power of Time and is forgotten through the lapse of Time."__ –_Aristotle, _**Physics.**_

**--**

**Thomas Moore's thoughts …**

Years later, -_'if I do have years ahead of me_'- I would probably write a book and when the world was _still_ safe, when there was no Anne Boleyn to bother us, no Katherine of Aragon to interfere and finally … no _Monarchy_ to rule our lives.

I have always considered myself a realist but a dreamer at the same time. But in all of my life, my obscure dreams have always ruled my reason and judgment, shaping me into the common figure head of hatred and envy I am today. Had I not bore Henry _or had he not been my son_ me and my family then would then have a perfect life. And if I were to die someday; then in the future I would not be reminded as the bloodthirsty adulterer, but as the Saint and the Reformer. –"A martyr for my faith." – Something that my family would be most honored with for the rest of their lives, and after them their descendants, saying proudly that they descend from Thomas More, the Saint –"_who died for his faith_."

And not the adulterer who had the mark of _'adultery'_ and the branding of whips all round his back, and to the rest of his body –the markings of sin.

"_Deliver me …"_ I ask in silence, contemplating the Virgin Mary -her Holy picture hanging on top of my wall next to mine and Alice's bed. If I was to have peace in this life, it had to be through her first. For Christ right now was so angry at me for ignoring him –by sinning on so many occasions with Katherine and Alice. (I didn't even know who I _**was**_ married to anymore) If I needed forgiveness from Him, it had to be through the _Virgin Mary_ fist, His _Holy Mother_ and _mine._ Only_ she_ could grant me the redemption I was seeking.

* * *

**(**_**1534**_**)**

**October 26****th****.**

**Chelsea State, More Household.**

Thomas More was reading the new edict passed on to the King to the rest of his fellow Englishmen to prove their _loyalty_ to him. As a test to prove _this_ loyalty, they had to sign an Oath which called for all to bow down before the new_ Head of the Church of England_, a Church which _he_ and his _May Queen_ Anne called the newly reformed Anglican Church, and a new beginning for England to get out of the _'old' _Church's corrupt ways.

Many of course did not agree but it was not like they had much choice in the matter. Their hearts went to the King first, not out of love or respect for his person, but rather out of fear for what he might do to those who did not sign the _Oath._

Thomas thought it was _outrageous_ but at the same time his mind told him that the people _signed_ it because there was no one in their minds who would be brave enough to stand against the King of England. If _only_ there was somebody –the people might think– then the King would be in the need to change his mind about enforcing the Oath unto his people and his noble servants, and therefore submit to the will of the people, for their welfare.

But Thomas knew that the people were not looking for martyrs, for the faiths of martyrs were often put to test, and the fate that awaited them was one that nobody wanted to face down in the end.

Neither did Thomas. Now that Thomas was aware of _these_ implications, he _knew_ that somebody had to stand up. And _show_ that even the King of England or any other King saintly _enough _in Christendom did not and could not –have the authority to defy and put his laws above any other man's, and most importantly His or Her God.

That was what Thomas _would_ stand up for, and that was –as he read carefully the Oath, why he decided not to sign.

He left the Oath at the table, only moment later did he tell his servants to throw the Oath away and burn it _if_ they could or if they were not afraid, to dust –to oblivion.

--

**(**_**1534**_**)**

**November 29****th****.**

**Whitehall Palace: King's Quarters.**

Henry the Eighth, _'Sovereign'_ of England; was seated upon his throne, scanning through out all of his papers who had and who _had not_ signed the Oath. And as he scanned through them –he found one in fact _that_ had not.

That was _his '_father' and old _mentor_. Old Sir Thomas More.

* * *

**(**_**1534**_**)**

**December 15****th****.**

**More Household: Chelsea State.**

His whole family was seated down in front of him, waiting for their father to finish reading the declaration of his letter from the King and from his now High Councilor Thomas Cromwell; to appear in front of the Court, what they called the Highest and explained his motives for having refused to sign the Oath when many others had, including his eldest and favorite –Margaret Locksley-Roper More and the rest of her family, including her eldest child at the care of the May Queen –Anne Boleyn, and then finally be _judged_ according to his actions; including those done by him in the past when he was in the King's service as Chancellor.

His family watched carefully each member, eyeing each other with mixed feelings, of love, hatred and distrust. Not only did this mean their father could suffer more disgrace, but it also meant that their dear niece and Cousin '_Lady Mary_' Tudor would no longer be them. The child too would be done in disgrace.

And '_all_' they thought because of that _whore_ Anne Boleyn and her wretched child. Even if Elizabeth was a loved familiar by the More at the time of her coronation as Princess of England, after the episode where their father was tortured and whipped to the presence of all those who hated him, like the Protestants and his own son the King of England –many of the Mores were convinced that the _'May' _**Queen** _Anne Boleyn_, was a full participant of their dear Patriarch's punishment, and because of that belief, they fully had a deep distaste over what they called the whore's daughter, Elizabeth.

Mary was going to be taken away, and all of them wanted to dissuade their father and grandfather to take back the decision of his opposition to the Oath, and submit himself once again to the King, like he had done countless times in the past.

But they knew that was impossible, once Thomas Moore's mind was made up –it was impossible to turn it back to reality. And that was one of the many things his current wife regretted about her husband. That he was always stuck in his dreams –while the rest of his family might be suffering for his actions!

Did he not realize how much hurt he was causing him day and night by continuously defying the King?

'_What was he trying to prove? That all men can die martyrs for a 'useless' cause'_-Was the thought on everyone's mind as they had mixed feelings about signing the Oath after their father's absence. They _knew_ their Father and Patriarch would be turned into custody, and if a jury of his _peers_ would find him guilty of _'treason'_ then everything would be over.

John, seated at the left side of the table, started to hate down that _woman_ Anne, he had trusted her; as she promised him, that she, and her influences would take down into disgrace that other _'whore'_ Katherine, but that his father and his family would be spared of the fate of humiliation and death.

She had promised him! And yet, like so many things in the Country, she had broken down a good man to be burn at the stake, or worst; hanged, or drawn and quartered down like any type of common criminal when he had done nothing wrong but fall in love with the wrong woman.

His father did not deserve this, he was a good man. And John _needed_ him, by God –he prayed, he needed his father. He was just not read to let go that easily of his father. He was the only piece left of his mother. Ever since his mother died, _his __**'true'**__ mother_ –Joan More– he had become afraid and often reliant on others, especially on female figures like his stepmother and his wife to rely on. His father was the only male figure that John had ever been friends with. The rest of his life growing up with strong and extroverted sisters, plus with a strong stepmother –whom he had learned to love like his own mother– had rid him of any desire to be close to other boys or men his age. Whenever his father approached John to the prospects of making friends; John had always said no. And not because he hated it, but because John was afraid he would not fit in.

He was not like other boys, and his father knew it. He was not vain, or one of those men to cheat on his wife -_like so many at Court_.

_He_ (John) was different.

Almost like the past image he had of his father, yet no quite. He was not as handsome or beautiful in character and charm as his father; but he had his eyes and that had been enough for some ladies to consider John handsome. Yet John only had his heart for his wife Anne, who bared the same name as the whore who sat on the throne of England, as Queen Consort.

And even after the betrayal that John had done to his father, by siding with Anne Boleyn to destroy his _Princess_ reputation; his father still adored John and as he left –he took one good look at his son and with his poor sight he smiled at him.

"I just want to tell you that whatever happens, as I have said to you seconds before, always and I do _mean always!_ Be brave, and to the young ones, try to do as much mischief as you can –and never get caught or be afraid to say why you did it. Defend your actions, and do good, not do things well but do _good_. I wish the best of God's blessings, for the Lord I know will always be shining its light and its grace upon your faces … _Goodbye _Alice."

He said to his wife the last sentence as he prepared to leave them; handing her down his granddaughter, Katherine Heron; daughter of his youngest female child, Cecilia Heron-More in her strong arms. The beautiful black eyed-haired girl eyed confused her grandfather, she was too young to comprehend; but her step-grandmother did well to console her and distract her from the sad faces of her uncles and aunts.

The girl moments after her grandfather had left –and that would be last time she would ever see him, alive –did not fail to see her step-grandmother's tears, which were running down her cheeks to the bottom of her neck, her distress was clearly visible and it was now affecting the young girl at her lap. But the little girl was too smart to cry in front of her step-grandmother, she knew it was the duty of ever 'Lady' not to cry and whatever what happens; to always stay calm and do not act _until _the situation required it so.

Many years later, a similar girl –only older and wiser, would remember her grandfather like he once was, full of pride and gaiety that turned him both into one of the most precious figures in England –and to the most despised to Reformers.

Catholics alike and Reformers would not cry out for 'their' _Saintly Thomas More, _'their'_ martyr_, or their defender. Instead, they would cry out of joy to see an adulterer put to death for the crimes he committed against their Crown, the Foreign Princess of Spain –the King's mother– and their hearts who had once, not long ago, went out to him when he promised them salvation to Christ by his word of _'honor'_. But what honor did a man who had committed more sins -than half of what the whores in the brothels of England did with their _'clients' _offer them but death and misery?

Someday his daughter, if he ever saw her again; but he thought not –would have the courage to stand up in her father's footsteps for fighting for her beliefs rather than be shunned by them, he would at least have a reminder that behind all those defeats, humiliations and ardent fights with his son and wife, something along the way made everything worth it.

'_Perhaps …' _–Thought John, _'Alice will be that strength that calms my father's soul from beyond his future grave'_ and in reality she –Alice the Younger– would be **that** difference, and the hope that rises like an eagle in times of despair.

* * *

**_Some time later ..._**

Nobody knows what it's like in the end, to be the sad man, behind the blue and gray-brown eyes. The eyes of a man who has seen it all: death, oblivion, birth and finally … life and love … A man who has lived through so much and lost much as well. A man, who had to give up everything for the survival of his soul rather than his flesh, only so he could see too –the face of _His_ son, his _'only'_ true legitimate male heir.

Such men should not be allowed to live, they should die and go ahead to their afterlife with their hands clean before they could stain with the blood of the innocent and the guilty who hath caused them much suffer in the world while _they_ rejoiced in _'their'_ evil doing.

Thomas did not know if should be sad or afraid. The constant vigilance of his soul in the _past_ had always been an important issue, worthy to sacrifice himself over any wealth _or_ children he might had in his possession, but now that he faced the doors of purgatory; he was not to sure of whether those were the correct thoughts anymore. So much had happened to make him doubt, and yet, in the end, he _realized_ that he wanted to die. He really wanted death; he needed it. Not to anger Alice –his present wife– or make himself a martyr as he made everybody else in _England_ believe, but to prove that even a man, as sinful as he was, could make the King of England bow to his knees.

* * *

_**A/N**:  
I know the plot thickens and yet what will happen? Will he save England or will his defiance continue and his sacrificed be for nothing in the end? I chose that aristotle quote because as you get to see further on the story and have read the whole trayectory you will see it fits, as time has changed all these characters from wanting to be fair to the thing they will ultimate face in life ... death, but how each they will face it that is another matter, and guys there will be HUGE surprises.  
_

_T__he last part I made the illusion of neutrality like you don't know what time it is or the space time that if falls into the story, it could be in the trial, it could be when Thoams More is moments away from his sentence, but it is a transition of the escence of time itself and also putting the theory of Einstein who time is relative and different for all those who experience it depending on those experiences and that is the way they will see time also depending on matter, substance of certain time and the day and what value -whether sentimental or not- it will mean to them._


	23. Perfidy

**_A/N:_** _I have been working sorry if I haven't updated but I am better now although tomorrow I have a class, but the medicine like I said makes me feel better and by the way guys my updates will be a little bit slow since I have work and more class, because the busy season approaches, as I previously posted here you will look deeper in to people's humanities, this is not your story where you have heroes and villains, like marvel you have people and their dark sides, basically the question like watchmen; these people are viewed as heroes, yet who judges them if their actions were upheld to be correct, what if they are not. They are not villains yet they are humans ... and their dark side will emerge._

_Enjoy._

_Thanks to all my reviewers and those who are not, review!_

* * *

_**Chapter #21: **_**Perfidy**

"_My mommy once told me there were no monsters … but there are …" –_Nut (_Carrie Henn_), **Aliens** **(**_**1986**_**)**

--

As Chapuys reached the More Household –he was thinking that it would be better if he avoided the looks of Alice More than those of Sir Thomas. An angry man ready to bullfight him; he could take those down _any time._ He was a politician after all; and ready to fight angry men and their childish emotions with his controlled ones.

But a woman … _that was something __**different**_. Something differently entirely -since he had no study in handling the matters of married couples. God knew _his _own marriage was proof of that.

He had not been a good husband or a good companion, but he had been one _that_ tried enough to make things work while they lasted.

Unfortunately fate had other plans.

And he and his wife were not part of those plans. Ever since then he had been a lonely man with no wife, son, elder daughter or companion to heat up his heart or his bed. But to tell the truth, Chapuys wanted no female companion. And he wanted no son or daughter. He had been absorbed in his work and job as a Politician that to gain a distraction would mean the end of his career. And that was something Chapuys could not allow to loose, since Chapuys loved his career, and loved his job as well as his accomplishments.

Yet lately his accomplishments had been paved with difficulty and sorrow. The Queen had been dead and in _her_ place a new one had seated on the throne next to the King's. That had been the _'May Queen'_ Anne Boleyn. Beloved by the people and at the same time from the Emperor's enemies abroad, especially those in France who were gaining more allies with the _Heretics_ on the East, and the other enemies from the Empire of Spain and Charles V.

Chapuys was worried since he was given a difficult task. But there was really nothing he could do to revert it. He had to **obey** the Emperor's orders _above _all. Even above all the desires of his own heart. And God _knew_ that his heart went only to one person, whom he loved like the daughter he never had –Mary, rightful first Heir to the Crown of England.

He had loved that child _truly_ since she was a little girl of four years old. He had fallen in love with her frail –but yet, valiant and very outgoing figure. Seeing her dance with the Emperor –Charles V made him see that the girl was very gallant and very brave. Never twitching or feeling embarrassed to be in front of a large crowd of foreigners or very well Ambassadors that had long experience to intimidate others, especially Foreign Princesses. She had never twitched before Chapuys or his companion, Mendoza. She stood still and with a proud gallant figure she went forward to the Emperor and had said:

"_**I have a present for your Grace …"**_ –Then the Emperor had went to the window next to the then small Princess, and Heiress Presumptive (Mary Tudor, now degraded to _'bastard'_), to look at _his_ present in which he feigned surprise, and told her it was the "_greatest_" present he had ever received, to which, she knew he was faking but she merely gave him a silly smile as to not disappoint him, but _he _knew, and felt no prouder to the idea of having a wife that would outsmart him every second. One of the reasons why in the end, he declined the marriage between him and his own first cousin; because _he knew_ that Mary would wind up having all the _Real _Power from behind the throne –while _he _would merely be a puppet 'King'. –A decorative figure sitting from behind the throne while his wife would sit around and give all the important orders to rule down his Kingdom and many dominions and he would have no choice but to obey and listen to _everything_ she spoke of.

It was a situation he did not want, and truly, one time –the Emperor told Eustace Chapuys that he did not want that for everybody but nonetheless; he needed it for the sake of his Country.

After all, a King or an Emperor may want so many things but in the end; _they_ all had to bow to the wishes and the welfare of their own people and their Country.

Something Henry the Eight knew very well, but yet he ignored those wishes by marrying off a woman whom own ideas had started out as well, helping the people and working for the common man, then that very same woman had instigated Henry to separate from the Church, close down monasteries whom _she_ in a Public Commentary to the people had said that _**all**_ monasteries were evil and as the _Old Church_, they were all corrupt and deserved to be closed down. Many people had not seen that well, but nonetheless; they went along, Until those lands closed down and the money went to King's large expenses, and to make matters worse, those lands sustained many of the people's farms –giving them cheap products and free materials, without those, many were starving and had to be reduced to begging, and then because of begging they were branded as _"beggars"_; something really unfair and torturous for the poor people of England who were suffering because of the _'whore's'_ sins.

In the end it seemed that God _had not been there_.

And _many_ were loosing their faith of God throughout England because of their King and his Ministers' actions; along with the Queen, who they no longer trusted or saw as her their Fairy Tale –_May Queen_.

There was too much bad blood between the people of England and their Queen for their confidence to turn

"If the King is God and the May Queen is the Perfect Prophet through which the God of England speaks –then what hope is there for us who fate has never been fair?" –The People of England spoke each day. Oh yes! –Renaissance was occurring, but not England or on the Church of God, whether _"reformed" _or 'old'_, _it was occurring on the mind of the _"new"_ People, whose belief in God was wrong and they firmly asserted that had it not been by God or the _misplaced _influence of King or Queen of England or others in Europe, then the People would be okay, reigning only with Senate and by the will of Representing _"Leader"_ of the People alone –chosen by them each of the years when crisis would require him or her to be chosen. Chapuys did not agree to any of this, but many of these "new" men's ideals were based on Sir Thomas' readings and scriptures he left off before his condemned Public relation to the King's mother, the Princess Dowager.

In there just like in Sir Thomas' Utopia and other Essays –they said that the King is not a logical response to govern the People, that it should be only the People and a government chosen by the People that should be the sole governors of the People and nobody else.

Of course the Kings of Europe (especially Henry to Chapuys' amusement when he saw the _'King'_ of England throw one of his many rampant rages and behaving like a child in front of everybody –including his advisers) did not trust in this, nor they had any reason to. For with this, their plans and their power were gone forever and they had no _right_ to rule.

It gave the people the rule necessary to govern themselves and need no longer the Monarchy.

But thank God Chapuys was not going to see that, for larger changes always brought war and famine. And that was something Chapuys did not want any more than he wanted to be on England and solve the King's problem with his mother, or vice-verse, the Princess Dowager's problem with her son, Henry.

It was all getting on Chapuys' nerves to the point where he could not think straight anymore, but he must always remember that he was there to do a job, and no matter what he would _**make **_**it** happen. No matter what.

* * *

**(**_**1534**_**)**

_**December 17**__**th**_** …**

**Trial of Sir Thomas More:**

Sir Thomas More once a respected lawyer and Humanist; was now standing in front of his **declared**_ enemies_ of the Reform and allies against the _'True' _Church of Christ –The Catholic Church. Cranmer and the rest of those _'Reformers'_ –Thomas More thought with spite as he eyed them all very carefully, knowing exactly what they planned to do with him– who had sworn an Oath as once he did to uphold the law of God and Christ and always do what was correct, but what was correct in their minds (Thomas thought) was not always correct in Christ's law.

Thomas knew his son very well and _knew _somehow that what these men wanted was not in the best interest of God. It was in the interest of _his_ son and only his son's alone interest. That was what Henry had become, a man of interest, for His alone and no one else's.

For Henry's word was God –Thomas thought with spite, and if he had the power to _cut_ somebody off, than God himself would not judge him, for he was the English Vicar of Christ on this Earth, _His _Emissary, and Thomas once again thought with laughter in his head how funny and ridiculous that sounded.

It was funny how things had come to be. He had loved that child so much, up to the point of neglecting his other son, John More the Second and then neglecting that boy's mother to sleep once again with the _witch_ that had caused all this trouble. Katherine, and even now he still loved her all the way, despite all that happened –he still loved her.

And probably always will. He tried to deny it. But it was too late to deny it. His heart had always been for the Princess Dowager and would always have been for more years had he not been in this position where his son wanted him off from this realm of the living.

How he had loved that child, even if he was a bastard and had told Katherine many times that she was wrong for putting a 'bastard' child on the throne. But he loved Henry; he had loved that child and carried him, made him feel well when there was nobody else to make him feel safe. Had hugged him, and made sure he was asleep and safe in bed when he went campaigning for war on France, and then when he had lost –he had told Henry that it was not his fault, and that the victory was _His_ for he had learned what it was to loose, and that was a valuable lesson that would make him a winner for future generations and _Immortal_ for all times and History to remember him.

Henry had smiled, and with a giggle of a twelve year old child, he had reached up, and hugged his father –at the time oblivious that Thomas _was_ his father. That moment was one of the few moments that Thomas had felt so happy and comfortable within another human presence's arms, especially ones that belonged to his son.

Alice, she was the strongest woman he ever knew, even stronger than Katherine, but Thomas knew she could never compare to Katherine. Katherine was just larger than life, magnificent –even if she was cold and sour to him at some points in the past, but Alice; she was a warrior, but sadly fate was no longer on her side, as much as it was on Katherine's. Both women were destined to walk a path of sorrow for having loved and mourned for the same man all this time.

And soon one would mourn more for the lost of her loved one, than the other _who_ was supposed to have loved him _more_ for the simple fact that _she_ had been married to him _'first'_, and consummated the union before anyone else.

_No_, said the voice of fate; it was a sad day for all women, both enemies and allies alike. For even if Thomas had once been loved and now in the Present hated for his _sins_ of _adultery_ with the Princess Dowager; every women in Christendom loved him and admired him for his courage and his love for the only true woman that had ever held his heart deeper than any of his past two wives in his life.

And that woman everybody did not need a second thought to who she was. Katherine. The ever lasting Princess …

The _'Constant Princess'_ … **forever** young in their minds and '_forever_' beautiful until the day would come when the suns of fates would no longer bath in their favor –and the people would turn to hatred and injustice; and shun away in their memories those _swee_t moments of glories when they lived and did so much for England –and to the rest of their hearts.

And for their King … their son, whom so little people knew the truth behind England's greatest masker.

The temple of the Holy Virgin, a few weeks before it had been tore down by orders of Anne Boleyn and the King, held a diminutive figure created by the most skilled artist in monks who were at the service of God and their virgin Mother, Mary whom they called the _"Holy Virgin"_; was of pale but snow white features, with long black hair flowing in waves that it created with the light the illusion, that the wind was actually moving part of the hairs, a _'miracle'_ that people said was done thanks to the faith, a strength, they gave to the Virgin to move down her hairs and bless the _"good_ _people"_ of England.

Of course, this was no more.

The Virgin would never see her visitors any longer, and her image, her figure would be lost into eternity forever.

Amelia, a girl of barely fourteen who had seen and experience the many miracles that the Virgin gave to her children, had been enraged when this happened; but nonetheless she obediently bowed her head like any other Englishman or woman in her Country. There were peasants after all; the King's mother was no longer there to protect them she (Amelia) who had seen the miracle work through the hands of the Princess Dowager Katherine, _the _Great and as much as Anne, the _new_ Queen was there to give them charity, she could never replace the loving and tender hand of a Princess who had experienced through poverty, love and loss, all of which had ailed the poor such as herself in England through the hard times.

Many had said that Anne in time would become a great Queen, perhaps a great Regent; but none could ever replace the image that Katherine had given to herself as warrior, mother and Regent when she secured England's borders from their savage enemies of the Scots.

Not even Anne Boleyn with all her beauty could surpass that –as strong or intelligent as she could be. Amelia was just one of many poor Englishwoman who had disguised themselves as upper middle class to work into the service of the King's mother –and _she_ knew who **they** were but still, she accepted them, nurtured them and even taught them to read, write and how to sing when nobody else would take them in, not even their fathers.

They –as Amelia– had no home but Katherine's and their loyalty would always remain with her.

Katherine used influence, and her maids were given freedom upon they wished to spend their last moments with their parents, their husbands, their sons or other close loved ones. She noticed with pleasure that Amelia as all of them like her most trusted maid –Elizabeth Darrell–, had the wits, the intelligence and the good sense for caring for the sick Princess; she always followed her Mistress' instructions with good sense and good judgment, and it seemed at times that her hard rebellion to follow gave the girl as with her other cares, more strength.

But there was still restraint and uncertainty in her features, she did not know what would happen after she –Katherine– died.

Despair was a certain horror that encircled everybody when they discussed _this_ possibility. Yet for Maria and Elizabeth; they both knew that this was a certainty that was bound to happen someday soon, as all things in nature that had to die _someday_. Katherine nodded often when she heard Maria and Elizabeth talked about the distant future, a future where they mentioned every name that was so far in the knowledge of the Princess that _they_ would still be with the King, but the Princess –who in that point in time would be absent and no longer there. Her presence in the world no longer mattered and Maria, her deepest friend, knowing what Katherine was thinking, went to her and pulled her close to her chest, hugging her like her mother, Isabel, used to do once before Katherine was five years old and her childhood innocence and dreams gone in the battlefield of Granada were the only two things her young eyelids could remember were the smell of sand and blood.

--

**(**_**1534**_**)**

**The More:**

_Katherine_ was waiting in the More, for any news of the outcome. The trial had already lasted about two days, and still no news.

She was impassive for the first time of her life to not know what was going on.

Henry, the youngest of the Seymour family, a family that was serving under on Anne Boleyn but that had previously served under _her_ through their daughters, Elizabeth and Jane, had given her a hidden message (encoded in Spanish and Greek) where the news of the outcome of the trial was still not known, not even to them who were becoming to be closer each to the King; but they did know –the letter had said through the Seymour Patriarch's words– that the King himself just like his mother, was impassive to know the outcome, and was already ordering his ministers that they tell him their verdict.

But none of Henry's ministers wanted to tell the King what they thought of the King's most _trusted and intimate_ friend. They all knew the King's connection to the Chancellor, as he was his friend and had raised the King like he was his own son. So they knew that whatever they did with Thomas' fate must be handled with care, for no one wanted to upset the King, when his mood was very known through out the Kingdom to change every once in a while when handling delicate situations. And handling the case of Thomas More **was** a _**delicate**_ situation –one, where no one of the judges present wanted to be.

They all let out their picturesque oaths of which all had an extensive repertoire, swearing that they would always uphold the law for the good of the people, **and** the _King._

Before Thomas More had ever met Katherine, she had been a squeak, a mouse and a silly child. Deeply entranced in her fantasies of Kings and Princes, like the _English _legends of King Arthur and his Knights, Lancelot and Guinevere, but after meeting Thomas … she had changed dramatically.

A man who was austere and had a mind of a man ten year older his senior, and she, a mouse who had an innocence worse than a child, had clicked as the most unlikely and naively couple in England and in Europe.

But as always, her mother had been there to interrupt their union, putting her nose in where it was none of her business, and her hair scraped back unbecomingly like a poor maid; had always been envious of Katherine's beauty and humility, and it was perhaps the realization that Katherine had found _true_ love and beauty in a marriage, whereas, Isabel of Castile had found only sorrow and a bloody marriage where the only thing she inherited was butchery, bedded next by deception and her mother's lust for power on other lands across the sea.

But she never scorned Katherine in the face whenever she was present before her mother, yet her actions against the annulment for the marriage with Thomas, had spoken more than any words she had said in the past. She had betrayed all her oaths she had said to her children of love and courage, when the ephemeral lust for power she felt on behalf of her Country and on her child's pride condemned her to a life of solitude and tragedy.

"_Siempre recuerda hija, vos seras Reina, y en la vida no se puede confiar en nadie, en nadie … al final todos te traicionaran, incluso aquellos que mas te aman, ya lo versa; pero no yo, yo pienso en ti, en Espana."_

Her mother had said, and Katherine made an expansive gesture as though she was still present at that moment, and forsaking shyness like before; she buried her face in the silky pillow, nuzzling her head against it.

She refused to loose her mind that easily over something that was far behind her, buried deeply in her past, like everything that was before she came to England and was received with a gay manner with happy cheers, and blessings, by all the English Nobles.

It seemed so long ago, yet she still remembered. The happy smiles and the gaily dances.

She searched through all of her memories to see if Thomas was ever there before coming into her life, and as far as she could remember; he wasn't.

He was never there, not even in her time of need where she needed him the most was he there. He had left her, to fend alone by herself while he went away and submitted himself to the iron will of her father. Marrying off a sickly, pale and dirty blond haired girl called Joan Colt, by which none her nor she had any happy memories of.

"Your Grace." –Elizabeth Darrell, the Princess' most trusted servant and _lady-in-waiting_ whispered to her Mistress, giving the old woman an intent look. "News has _finally _arrived." –Her whisper, once it reached Katherine's ears; made the Princess turn to _lady_ _and friend_ in expectation, but she refused to get out of her bed, afraid she might be disappointed if the news were distressful.

However; Elizabeth promised her that the news were none to be distressed over.

"You tell me that he has been released?_ Of _**all**_ charges_ _and not _to be sentenced to death?" –_**She**_ asked perplexed.

Elizabeth, nervous to speak, shook her head, failing to keep her Mistress out of distress and the Princess fell back to her bed where she had had climbed from seconds ago, hoping she could hear at last good news from her loved one. "I am afraid he is not without the death sentence, however; because among some he is still loved and from that faction they see it as unfair that he should pay only for his past sins with … you _(she said carefully)_, some still deliberate over what to do with him, and the King still wants no part in signing his death warrant. He is rather hesitant, it is said he prays day and night to God for guidance, yet he receives no answer."

Katherine nodded. "_And he wouldn't_, _would he_?" –She had said softly, knowing full well that her son was not capable of killing his own father. It required lots of guts and an iron will to do it, and Henry was just _not _that man. He could kill thousands, millions, even the entire world if needed it be to suit his own ambitions; but his father, that was just something Henry was not prepared _yet_.

And for that, Katherine –well versed in her son's attitudes and actions– was glad.

That _at least_; was some _vision_ –and sign of hope– that there was still a bright, and beautiful future waiting for them amongst all the darkness that Henry and his ministers had created.

* * *

_**A/N: **Review guys!_

_Dark times will approach for our characters_


	24. My Sacrifice

_**A/N:**_

_Revamped._

_**

* * *

**_

Chapter # 22:**"My Sacrifice"**

"_Thanks for making a fighter … made me learn a little bit faster." – _Christina Aguilera; _**Fighter**_**.**

**--**

**(_1535_)**

**February 1st.**

**Tower of London.**

Thomas paced around his small cell. He thought that the constable had his doubts about him, and not good was to have a constable receive his guest with regret. The constable thought that Thomas was a man afraid of death, but he had the feeling that if he would see a Queen or King dying, than he would admire them if they were not have fear of imminent death by His Majesty.

_"Something takes a part of me_

_Something lost and never seen_

_Every time I start to believe_

_Something's raped and taken from me, from me…"_

In the end that is what would happen, he feared that Henry would not last long with this wife of his. Anne was doomed not to give him a son, and he knew that as slow minded, and very easy was to change, Henry, would fall in and out of love with her in a second.

From night to day he would, in less than a day, find a bride, more suitable and more passive to suit his past tastes in women.

This woman would be special and she would not only tame the wild beast's heart but be the object of admiration of the whole Court and of Henry.

How admirable was his son to put a wife and fall in and out of love with his Mistresses so soon. There had not been a King of England [he feared], more unstable and unfit to rule than Henry.

But he guesses that this is where –praying to God- he was at fault. Had he not set Henry falsely on the throne and spoiled all the money, and was soon to squander more if he did not administer the money he _stole_ from the Monasteries.

Anne of course was not to be happy, not because _poor_ monks were being left destitute, as many orphans and sons of hardworking men, but because the riches of the Monasteries and the 'Old' _Faith_ were not being handled correctly, the way she would have wanted.

--

_**2 Weeks Later …**_

_I speak to you as a man and a humble servant of the people. I hope to all my heart and riches of my family that this diary is never found. I know I must yearn for personal losses, but how can I not when my own family is to be surrender over to misery, and Alice to penury if I don't surrender to the King's will._

_If this is confirmation of the King's legal legitimacy to the throne, then as God as my witness; let it be, for I assure you that blood does not make a King great, it is his talent and his hold on the people that do._

_Henry –Harry is a great King, and he Sovereign and Lord of all things, I don't doubt that as Master to me as a parent he loves and holds no desire than to see me safe._

_God save at last His Majesty, may these words find no one, until the dust in my bones is gone and my head perishes as all my organs, eaten away by the worms. May you be my friend and reader from the future that I will never see, but I hope and have high expectations for?_

_With nothing left to say I sign as your author …_

_Amen~_

_--_

"_Life's kinda always been messing with me  
__  
You wanna see the light?"_

Thomas sealed the letter carefully and returned to hide it under one of the rocks from his cell. If one of the men, or the Constable himself, Kingston found what that letter _contained_, important documents and information about His Majesty and legitimate claim to the throne; no doubt Henry would be denounced to surrender the crown and Margaret Pole or Countess Salisbury or another Plantagenet descendant with true blood will initiate a war for the Crown. Maybe even the children of Charles Brandon, so like their father for lack of prudence and virtue –jealousy would reach them first, along with James the Fifth of Scotland. With an excuse to have England finally as his, he would say that as the second oldest child of Henry VII, the past King of England and true Tudor, it was him whose claim to the throne was his by right of blood and law.

_  
"Can't they chill and let me be free?"_

"_So do I  
__  
Can't I take away all this pain?_

_You wanna see the light?_

_I try to every night, all in vain, in vain…"_

What would happen to him and Katherine? Things could not get worse, made no difference what happened. They would still face the waves of regression and hatred for their Usurper, but the first ones to fall would be them, then Henry and finally his family by blood, those who had enjoyed the Crown at the expense of the true heirs of the Tudor House, Brandon's children Henry and Frances.

"_Sometimes I cannot take this place  
__  
Sometimes it's my life I can't taste…"  
_

Elizabeth, that cunning and sweet faced girl would either die or be locked in the Tower, so would Mary, his poor first born granddaughter, and his children would be left in a poor state, falling behind that of other traitors.

"_Sometimes I cannot feel my face,_

_You'll never see me fall from grace…"_

He could not let that happen, but traitor or not the truth had to be known. Just _not_** now**. _They_ would find out later, when there would be no King or Parliament to rule their lives, where his dream of a peaceful Senate and a ruler chosen by the common man would rule.

It was his wish that he would see that, but no matter how much the Senate in his books won the arguments; they always backfired as he told the people that by the times they faced, only the King could rule, and not a Senate.

The people were still in need of schools and Churches, Universities not wars or opulence.

He did what his Country dictated him to do. He drew a long breath and hid away the other book of letters, a compile of his stay and his life on English times, when war and corruption ruled the most opulent Court in Europe. He heard himself mutter a prayer and then he repeated "Amen" again and afterwards he went to gaze at his reflection into the cool water pond that had been formed earlier because of the rain.

He certainly looked old. No longer the model of admiration or jovial and proud Lawyer, like he used to be –Thomas had gotten old, and the longer he started, the longer he took notice of how much these past events had affected his appearance.

But as he stepped back, it was not his appearance that worried him, it was Heaven. Would God receive him, now that he was left with nothing but false promises and spitting images of treason, lust and vanity that stained his heart?

* * *

_**February 17**__**th**__**.**_

**The More.**

They had taken everything from her. Her son, her once friend and now enemy, Anne Boleyn, her grandson Henry Arthur Tudor lay silent and rotting six feet underground, being the meal for worms tearing up his flesh. All because the nurses were too stupid to notice, and maybe now Anne would realize how it really meant to be of strong will, and step inside Isabella's shoes to feel.

Her granddaughter Elizabeth was growing to be a strong Queen, but if Henry yearned for a male son than she would be nothing and probably be a reduced servant like her firstborn granddaughter Mary. Oh Mary! Mary Tudor, such a beautiful Princess, she had such expectations … but they were not to be fulfilled because of Katherine's Prophecy and her mother.

"_Feeling like a freak on a leash  
__  
You wanna see the light?_

Feeling like I have no release…"

"_A Queen of England will be burn …"_ –That was true, a Queen would be burn, but she doubted that Isabella was the one to fit the prophecy, even in life Isabella, despite her fits of madness, was sane enough to realize what her duties meant as the future mother of the next King or _… Queen_ of England, this she was proud of, but Anne was the most likely figure if she lost another son or infant.

She had heard that the Queen was pregnant, but for how long? The Queen could surely not give birth fully, she had failed, she was told by her maid who was told by _another_ who served at Court, that immediately after Elizabeth, there had been two secret miscarriages, and this present pregnancy would turn into probably the fourth or the third if Anne was not careful.

"_So do I  
__  
How many times have I felt diseased?_

You wanna see the light?

Nothing in my life is free, is free…"

They were all sinners, and Katherine realized at that moment that all women, including her were whores. The only difference was that she was a _Royal whore_ – and Anne to this date, even being named Queen, was not. Elizabeth however who bore the name of her grandmother was a true Royal and possessed more English blood, and although ashamed to admit it, she hoped that Elizabeth would rule England in a much better way than her father had.

"_Sometimes I cannot take this place  
__  
Sometimes it's my life I can't taste…"  
_

Katherine prayed that Mary would be Queen if his will allowed it, but also Elizabeth, who had the rudeness and iron will, but yet sweetness, of her great grandmother Isabella of Castile, and the clairvoyance for battles and good judgment and logic like her grandmother Katherine of Aragon, Infanta of Spain.

"_Sometimes I cannot feel my face_

_You'll never see me fall from grace…"_

The Infanta knew she loved Elizabeth, even if she only met her shortly, she saw her mother and the innocence of her child before all of this happened, in her. In her little form there lay hope, and she had the bright and mellow attitude that Mary had once had before her father and stepmother neglected her and humiliated her in front of all Christendom and the English Court. _–'The most corrupt Court of all Christendom!'_ –Thought Katherine.

"_Something takes a part of me  
__  
You and I were meant to be…"  
_

Beyond the sun and the moon and the planets as her mother had once showed her, while in Spain where she told Katherine of the importance of victory and science to remain together; not all the way to heaven –she had said, remained on courage, some of it depended on strong will, and strong will only could turn the tables against unjust men … and their desires for Power.

"_A cheap fuck for me to lay_

_Something takes a part of me…"_

She had thought her mother was not talking only about Kings, but more about the sex of men, a victim of her lusty father, she was used to be being betrayed behind her back with other women, yet she never lay one reclaim at her husband's feet –for she knew not to submit to his anger or cowardice, instead she controlled him, used his bastards and women against him so she could have him under her claws of Power. Sharing Power was a lie; Isabella always had the last word, whether by strategy of planning ahead, or by blackmailing indirectly to her husband, and to her people.

Yet the people loved her, because she was a great Monarch, and gave much to her people, like Urraca of Castile and other great Monarchs of the time before her, she never was weak and never yielded to the Power of others but hers.

Katherine wanted to put an example to the English that she was not her mother, but that she was no weakling either they could control. She made all proud, and opened England to a woman leading the army and set the first foundation for female rule, yet all of that was next to nothing, just for one sin, one incident with a man she admitted, she let her feelings won over when she invited him to her bed.

--

Thomas lay with his pitiful food. It tasted like the leftover the King gives to the poor now, he should know for he did some service to help them while he refused the Oath when he was at Chelsea. It tasted perhaps worse and probably already swollen and thrown up to give to the King's old friend.

Thomas More did not know how there were people to stand all of this, but he admired the poor and those the people laughed at, for they were the ones who the English people owed their greatness more than the nobles. They made Kings and they could dethrone, only thing left to do was to make them realize that _–it was not them who had to be afraid of their King, it was Kings that should be afraid of their people._

Kings always existed in their old legends. One of them, the most popular, brought Thomas into deep thought as he swallowed out of need and hunger his food. King Arthur, anything more to say than a famous folklore of England about one of the greatest mythical King the world had ever seen?

The word was easy: no. Arthur had united all England, and although at times he doubted his existence, he somehow never stopped to quote that figure to his youngest daughter Cecilia and to his son John. His youngest son, what had he done? He had looked for Harry so long, that he forgot about his _other_ son, John.

John had been so neglected and often he would cry at nights because of his mother's death. Alice always tried to calm him, and while it worked John always felt neglected nonetheless.

"_Something takes a part of me  
__  
You and I were meant to be_

A cheap fuck for me to lay…"

King Arthur had faced many lives of tragedy, including his own. He had married a beautiful maiden of noble heart, but her heart had not been noble or loyal to Arthur, it had been only to the man of great candor in his heart, Lancelot who was Arthur's first Knight. Arthur deceived by his beautiful wife, had, in another deception, been deceived by his half sister, Morgause, other version have it that it was Morgan Le Fay, as for which is true we will never know. What it is _certain_ is that he begot a child born out of lust and the desire of revenge from one of his elder sisters. Morgause rejoiced in the newborn, while Morgan Le Fay would use him to regain what was hers when Pendragon [Arthur's father] slain her father –the Duke of Cornwall. She was a maiden too, once innocent but now she and her sister forced to act, left Arthur at the mercy of his pride and of that pride his son –Mordred was born.

_  
"__Something takes a part of me…"  
_

How _funny_ it was; meanwhile Mordred is a myth and folklore of the ignorance of the people, his birth nonetheless meant the destruction of Camelot, a Kingdom that assimilated his Utopia, but like the root of his novel it was a _'no place'_ –it did not exist. '_Only in our imaginations'_ –Thought Thomas dismayed.

What had Thomas done? He was no Arthur no King, but he inherited a bastard son out of lust and pride with a woman whose beauty called to him and her kisses were necessary to his body like oxygen.

What had he become?

What had he brought unto England? His seed brought nothing that misfortunes and tyranny to this bountiful land?

Thomas glanced at his window as if he feared he would never again watch the sun. Everything was still outside, but he got the feeling they were practicing, probably with watermelon or some other means how they were going to cut him off, if his son granted him mercy to being cut off.

His son promised as he had heard the scratching of his pen as he wrote down many new reforms from his Kingdom, no doubt influenced by his new wife and Councilors, that he would never have his best friend and old mentor stuck in a death that would put his body to dust before his Holy Burial. Sweet words from a man who was his son and captor, but it meant nothing next to the coldness of his cell.

Leaning against a wall, a table that he had used later to write his many letter he hid under the rocks, made him remember [although its form was square] of the famous _Round Table_ and the Knights that had been the tireless Council to Arthur, ever loyal most of them through out his Kingdom. Had Arthur –assuming in Thomas' mind he was real- felt remorse for creating Mordred? –for sending his people to a slow death and a son that never forgave him, that was ashamed of his parentage and whose only ambition was a crown, and once like him –happiness?

Thomas had created a monster, a man eater who like the old giants, ate the work of others and took their inventions and money as his own, leaving no daughter of men safe and sharing no riches to others unless they played their loyal monkeys. Henry gave no loyalty back, he did not repay true loyalty, and he worked differently than other Kings of the past England. Like Mordred, he devoured everything at sight, and exposed Guinevere, in this case his lover, Katherine of Aragon; as a true witch and whore. Katherine more than witch was exposed as a whore, who rejoiced in the thought of having men from happy marriages fall under her claws, or so the plays were now under the lower bunch of England's towns.

Anne, the woman his son married –was a witch. It was not his assertion but the people's, once the May Queen, now that she lost a child and seemed to be a trend in her pregnancies for the future, many whispered that her luck was running on low waters, and that she was to be burned the Queen fated to burn, would be burn.

"_Something takes a part of me  
__  
You and I were meant to be…"  
_

Drunk in his desperation because of his loneliness, no other human being besides his family, coming at least once a month and only for minutes to try him for his nuisance, picking on him for being a fool and not signing the Oath, further said that it was only his seed with Katherine, a _"Princess Whore"_ (spoken by Alice) produced a Mordred.

John told him he was ready for his blessing, that he should bless him and Margaret, and if not Margaret (she no longer needed financial support, she had enough as Duchess of Locksley) then why not Cecilia or Elizabeth.

Elizabeth?

Out of the question, never part of the question. She was nuisance; he had forgiven his grandchild from her womb and his son's loins for his parent's sins, but not her. She would live knowing that she never got an ounce of love or forgiveness in the last minute by her father, and that she will die in the flames of hell if that was where he was going. As for Cecilia he could not give her more, she already rejected his offerings.

She had rejected him; she had cursed him and told her that he was the worst thing on her family, and that if Elizabeth could only have been raised better than he would not swim under rough waters, because of his own stubbornness.

Elizabeth was like Morgan Le Fay, a woman with revenge in her heart for not being loved. How stupid she was, Thomas thought dismayed at his daughter's behavior. He scurried under the mud; _like_ **Katherine** was being pushed and he wallowed in sadness as his children caused dissent amongst themselves and the Crown.

Alice already told him that she loved little Alice, but she was like Morgause, only regret in her heart for having to take care of his sweetheart's illegitimate. But Thomas had to make her understand, that for all the love she bared her, he loved little Alice, and she was a bright girl –he was sure of that. Why not take care of her?

His seed had created an offspring, a Mordred that ravaged and destroyed everything he touched, he bet he destroyed Anne Boleyn, not now but as he told Tunstall –he was like the Emperor Tiberius deflowering maidens so they could then be devoured, so Anne was one of those. Whether or not victims of his Mordred led themselves to the trap, full knowing they would be devoured, and then sacked of their innocence and devoured, he did not know, but many if they did –they did out of pure pleasure as long as their fortunes, _titles_, or, _Crowns_ would be secured.

All _'great'_ men and women in England had their bets that already the King was waning in his affections for his so called _May Queen_ too soon, and if she wasn't_ careful_ –she would loose more than a Crown, and perhaps not be too lucky_ [or merciful]_ to obtain a quick divorce or annulment like Isabella.

She was of distant Royal Blood, and that did not help, who did she have besides the double crossed friendship of the King of France and her rich influential uncle, the Duke of Norfolk?

Who else? No one –that was the answer, no one.

Mordred's Guinevere would be burn or share his fate, and him the Arthur whom his father had much promise and hopes, would be dead soon.

Mordred died by fighting with his father, and pierced through King Arthur a sword that went across his heart and he, not pulling it out as he wanted to savor his father's blood, his own blood that sired him along with that of his sister, his mother; waited not long and Arthur still strong and convinced he had to sacrifice his son and let God forgive him for his sins and what he did to the land –pierced his Excalibur through his son's ending his life miserably, with his eyes looking at the father: why? –he said he never wanted his love, but his love was rejected by men and women who used him for their own purposes, and couldn't Mordred see what was going on into the land. Arthur lay down there –waiting until his son could draw his last breath, and finally he died too, under the hands of probably Percival or other knight to throw away and deliver Excalibur, back from where it came, from the waters where therein domain of the Lady of the Lake was, and he, into Avalon was received.

Soon Thomas will be received in Avalon, and Mordred will have to face a life of being alone. He wanted that babe not to be pierced through the heart like Arthur had done to Mordred, but it was impossible, because of his death and his last words, Henry will never be the same and if he goes along further after Thomas, then he would cease to exist and a new Henry would be reborn.

* * *

"_A cheap fuck for me to lay _

_Something takes a part of me…__"_

It was hard now to find a way that Anne could remain alone with Henry, and not have to go through balls to talk to her, while the whole Court remarking about their two Majesties' up and downs on their marriage. Although there had been in the past, many goodwill to the King and Queen for any future and healthy **male** offspring, so far to his Queen there had been no sincere or honest goodwill to her on Court.

This Christmas feast he guessed everyone would overlook her and start looking for another maid, _**virgin**__most likely_ of being the King's new interest. It was a tense world of continual suspicion and pretend friendship. Henry was reminded of his grandfather, Henry VII, the past King who had reigned over England with an iron fist. Yet his will although scoffed by many as imprudent and haste, was respected by some and unlike some, Henry Tudor, the seventh of England needed not friends or the company of Mistresses, that much he told Henry [when he still was Harry].

"_If you inherit the throne of England; don't loose your head over women, I left you a large fortune and I know your Tutor and Sovereign second next to me will leave you more. Listen son of my son, do not let yourself get tempted by vanities, as your great grandfather Edward IV was, look what happened to him, you want a rebellion on your hands, because if you do –then I bet the child you will have will be unfit to rule and you will destroy many futures boy … Think and do not act with men's loins. At least do it and be a true Tudor, don't dare to bring shame unto my House … I warn you"_

Henry VII had been a strict man with Harry, and Margaret Beaufort had been no better, yet at least the Countess or _'my Lady the King's Mother'_ had been blunter –and gave less arguing. With her it was a 'yes' or a 'no'. She always told him to beware of those he loved, that a Royal does not love or beg under women or men, he obeys logic, a true logic and is a servant for himself and himself means him and the people bound together and deprived of all passion.

Anne lying next to Harry on their matrimonial bed, a bed that they barely shared lately. She had yearned for his presence next to her. She remembered when she threw out the prostitute Lady Eleanor, and thanks to her brother George the wench did not show her face any longer.

But when Henry had asked her why had she been dismissed she simply replied with "she stole something very dear to me" –almost like Henry had done when he sent Henry Percy away in an excursion with the past Cardinal to be away from Anne, his desired object of affection and devotion at the time.

Now she was like Isabella, a past object of frivolity and getting old and still bared no healthy male heir, her beautiful son Henry Arthur had died and had she been like a rabid dog when she found out. She swore to his son's maids that she would launch at them and have them executed, it was all a conspiracy!

She had cried for a whole day, excusing herself from balls and dances weeks after and telling the King that it was not her fault, that she was no beauty and only useless, but the King moved by her love and devotion to their dead son –cried along with her and hugged her. He came to her bed after that and now she was pregnant again, but for how long? She was bound to loose this baby again, it was meant to be.

The Governess, not Lady Bryant, had told the "May Queen" (now dubbed Whore and witch by many because of the heresy that had left according to all the exploited, homeless and deprived of goods that were brought to them by materials brought to the monasteries first! –this is what Anne Boleyn was now, a prisoner and mourner in her own Realm) that the child was too fragile.

She had rode from the Palace and there to slap the useless Governess and all the servants, she was like a lioness or worse like an assassin, a cat with eyes ready to devour her prey. She devoured them and one of the servants who people said she never showed up, she sent to the scaffold thanks to Henry –who was mad, but not as enraged and heart aching like Anne.

She was a mother who was supposed to be buried and mourned over by her children, not the other way around. Father and especially mothers to whom are the givers _[and also]_ takers of life. A father and other parent could not understand a true mother, one that gave everything of her body and safety for her children, her pain. Even common mothers could not understand the pain and odyssey of aches that Anne went day and night as her position was getting more delicate, and the more she saw her sweet Elizabeth become a true Pearl to the world, the more Anne was convinced that her heart could not be torn from Elizabeth and give over to death.

Many dreamless nights were spent on each other's bed, as Henry had grown once again affectionate, over Anne's future. What if she delivered the child to Henry, what if it was another girl or what if it was a boy? What then? Would Elizabeth be happy, and would they take her new Henry Arthur, her old Prince and beautiful son who had ten clean toes, and beautiful round eyes, like Henry's and hers, his look of defiance every much like his old man punished on the Tower waiting for final Judgment –Moore, and his lips with every pride showing when he displayed smiles, like the stubborn old Princess Dowager, Katherine of Aragon.

He was a perfect baby, and this one was to replace him, she would love him, but he would be taken away from her loving side and bosom to be fed by another one; one he would grow to love in closeness and hunger himself of, instead of hers. It was the duty of all Royal Mothers, but not of hers. Why could she not have her children with her –was she not a Queen of England?

She heard Isabella always wanted Mary next to her, but because of her outburst and fit of mad rage like her mother, and scornful regret like her House of Hapsburg she was always treated with scorn alike by what some still mistakenly referred as _'husband'_. Henry let the child Mary be seen by her grandmother, but Katherine would let Isabella see her daughter.

But Anne as English and expected to give England a more pure English heir, whether the child she carried or Elizabeth; could not remain close. It was Royal Protocol as English Heirs and others in many other Realms were seen as the future for their Country, not to be attached or weakened by love, and to be reared since birth for their upbringing into Royal Politics and Exterior Relation in what she hoped would be strengthened by France or other First Power Nations.

They belonged to the Country and to Royalty not to a mother's love.

Henry whispered to Anne's ear if it was okay he embraced her deeply. She said "yes" but not too "hard" for she had the "baby, it needs care Henry".

Henry threw a disappointed look that his wife half sleep seemed not to notice. She was tired of worrying, she wanted a day without stress or falling out of her husband's loving touch. She went to sleep and Henry could only sigh in defeat, holding her hands, he turned away, his back on her to sleep opposite, falling fast asleep too.

* * *

**1536, March 1****st**

_**First Trial of Sir Thomas Moore,**_

**Tower of London: Council Meeting, accused not present.**

Archbishop Cranmer and Master Secretary Cromwell were discussing with other men, including the backstabbing old and chubby Tunstall about the impeding fate they all knew would await Sir Thomas Moore.

He was a man of spirit, but Tunstall thought he was a man that lacked wit as common sense, a close minded fool he called him. He still had not backed down from his opinions regarding his judgment and the man's hypocrisy preaching God and Christ.

Cranmer thanks to Richard Rich, an old acquaintance of Sir Thomas who had gotten, on a very smart but delicate subject, asking a hypothetical question to Sir Thomas on what would happen if the King was God or that Parliament named him God, that and also Rich was named now Attorney General, so he would also be Moore's upbringing.

"_Part of me, part of me__."_

'_How interesting …'_ –Cranmer thought as he looked to the letters of Christ the man had written down, surprisingly he had not written as much as he thought, but those he had, he preached about the Catholic Church, being faithful to God and to the King saying he was nothing but loyal to him! Ha! Nothing more ridiculous had ever come across Cranmer, but Cromwell who wanted this over with, felt that Moore was not a man to be hated but rather admired. True, granted he was not a strong political adversary or with the savvy of the old wild dog like Chapuys and other hungry for battle of words Politicians. He was more of an idealist, not as self righteous but somebody who wanted to prove something, if not for him, for others.

To show how possible it was to bring the greatest King unto his knees. _'And he has'_

"_Part of me…_

_Part of me."_

Thomas More was the second person to bring Henry to a difficult decision on whether to murder his old friend or to put him in jail, in a faith far worse than death or to starve and avoid any horrible sight of his old time mentor.

Cranmer cared not for Cromwell, but it seemed to Cromwell that the more he thought about his fellow Archbishop of Canterbury, the more he realized this man so zealous and more self righteous would one day out of ambition and caring more about Religion than to hurt an innocent girl and her grandmother, would end up being consumed by the many flames of retribution that lay at his hands and ink pen as he is signing more acts to condemn those unwilling to submit to the _new law of Jesus Christ and 'True' Gospel of the King Henry illuminated to him by God._

Cromwell was not very knowledgeable, but he was sure the Princess was; that in far away lands the Moors thought Jesus not to be a son of God, but rather that who had no father and Mary a receptor of God who had the immaculate conception, some Christians who had been led by what Cranmer still said was Heresy, said that the light shone upon them could be no brighter.

Cranmer raised his voice and said as he had spat to Moore days before he was imprisoned, that there had been no viler servant that Moore and that everybody should know that a servant to corrupting the King's conscience had committed treason and was unwilling to refuse life under true Gospels. No matter what he hath said.

"There has been no other more persecuting of our kind than him, he sent four people to the stake, a man who confronted to them and put them on a corner … what say all of you against _Heresy_?"

"Aye" More "Ayes" went all around the room; Cromwell remained silent and went to take the records of their meeting to His Majesty. It would not be long now for Sir Thomas' last days.

* * *

A/N: This is a revamped version since when I was uploading re editing files I put the wrong file in this chapter and then my info for it was lost so I had to do it all over again, I hope you like it, better plot and explains things that you might not have understood in the end as more cromwell and cranmer in them. It is better written PM me how it was girls guys. well pain to no end updated tomorrow morning. Go for a blast


	25. Sins of the Father

**A/N:**

Hello guys sorry for the long wait, but here it is at last and the music referrence quote you will see has a lot, and I do mean a LOT with this chapter I am not kidding since if you look really closely, Thomas' mother, his memories as a child, Elizabeth, Anne and Henry all in a whole have had tough childhoods and they want to escape but can they? No, maybe not, maybe not in this life as how they feel, it was really hard getting into them, I have been getting extremely into their minds into the point of becoming them when I write about each, LOL but I guess we all have the same problem, but only for here -the story, and now on, you will see why this is relevant. And sorry guys the end is near.

Enjoy!

Thanks once again to all the great reviewers and to all those who have kept this story going, as corny as it sounds I couldn't have made this without you, and I will keep this going with yes! the third part coming next year. Sorry guys the end is near, but as here there is a twist, there will be more shocking twists, and I do mean shocking. Those who you think **Will die** will not exactly, and things will not be as it seems.

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* * *

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**Chapter #23:** **"_Sins of the Father:_ Through the Looking Glass of a Disturbed Mind."**

_"Come little, I will take the all way into a land ... of _**enchatment**_, come little **children **-the time's come to play, here in my land of **magic** " -_Sarah Jessica Park [Sarah- Character], _**"Hocus Pocus"**_

--

_Katia von Tassel_ always thought –as she saw Meg– that _she_ would somehow end up taking care of a lunatic, or be the lunatic instead. As odd and gay as it may have sounded; _she_ knew that Meg had no more remedy but to be with somebody … anybody; even if that somebody meant a husband who could care any less about his wife's wellbeing, and more about his future _son's_ safe _birth_.

She had seen it many times … with her mother. She had been a woman of great controversy over in the Netherlands. Everybody _wanted_ to be her, and yet; _nobody _ever _knew her. _She was just like any woman in Christendom, her head so stuck in books of prayer –and in Church … whether that be _Protestant _or _Catholic_ [Katia decided that they were all the same]. Her mother just in the end when she was about to receive gratification for her husband, _'like any other woman'_ [she thought miserably]; her husband was found to cheat on her and have many bastards lying around in the low slums of the Lower Countries. He even had the _audacity_ to ask her to raise one of his own bastards, a little girl named Claudia; as one of his own. Her mother having no choice, she accepted; but with a price –Katia could never again see her or be made an heir to her father's fortunes. He inherited that to his bastards. Something that the people thought was _most generous_ of him and very humble … for a father to give lands and properties on children who before they were dubbed as unholy, and illegitimate and therefore cursed to never receive anything … and yet Katia was never convinced of this.

Neither was her mother.

But did she fight? No … she stayed with her father to take care of his children, to live with his Mistresses, and for Katia to be a lonely child because his father wanted Katia to show others charity and be the one who helped the _poor_; while he went into more slums and had more bastards.

That was the corruption of the new Church, just like the old one –it had a vast variety of bastard scoundrels and thieves, stealing from the people's pockets so they could make more buildings while the people wallowed in misery.

It was disgusting … and to see _this_ happening in England; was even more disgusting for Katia. She could not stand it … Anne Boleyn, Thomas Boleyn and the Queen's brother, George were all dubbed as heroes once, and now the people hated them because _maybe …_just _maybe_ –_they_ saw through them, or it was only a matter of time before the people's nature became as fickle and desperate and finding no one else to blame, they turn to the one closest at home.

'_Typical for us …'_ –She thought sourly as she looked to the small Mara Roper, sleeping peacefully in her bed. She was so beautiful and yet she was so disturbed, had been through so much and had to stand with a mother who was going crazier each day, and a baby brother whom Katia had dreams –that _he_ would never be born. The Duke had exerted too much pressure on Margaret to bear a living male heir for 'him' to inherit his Dukedom to his firstborn male offspring; but it was just impossible for her at the same time to do so much with such weight of worry that the Duke Locksley put on his wife's shoulders.

God knew that the girl already had a father in prison, a daughter who was away from her, a son who _hated_ her for not standing up –and on top of it all; a half-brother who would be nothing short of _'cruel'_ to cut his and her father's head in a swift second as soon as the guilty verdict were delivered to him by the Judges of the soon-to-be-martyr Thomas More.

Katia smiled at that little girl, it reminded her of Meg when she was not crazy, or worried or pretty much like she was now. When she was still Meg More-Roper; a girl of many dreams and hopes for the future.

But that girl was no more –and in her place stood a ghost, a hag and a crone. –Wishing for death, waiting for the swift days when all of her pains would be soon gone from this world and where she could reunite with her father and her loved ones. Her **true** husband –William, her father Thomas More, and her mother –her natural mother– Joanne More.

* * *

**1535, March 15****th****.**

**Heron States: Visitor's Quarters.**

Elizabeth screamed from the top of her lungs as she felt like a knife through her heart pierce her body. "My baby … _**my baby!!!!!!!!**__[Sobs]" [More sobs] _there was sobbing followed by a loud woman's howl of sorrow, like a wolf _she_ moved against her captors to push through the doors of her sister's bedroom –Cecilia Heron-More.

The news flashed through the Heron Household of Giles Heron that his sister in law had miscarried _again, _and it was tragedy that now made it worse –as the tidal wave of joy of what she felt was her "_competitor_", was now _pregnant_ once again with the King's child; a boy surely this time to appease the King's mind for the loss of all his children by his previous and present wife.

But to Cecilia this only meant tragedy and grief for Elizabeth Dauncy-More; she had worked so hard to bring the King a son, even if he was illegitimate, and now because of actions with the King; the rest of her children lay dead. Of the sweating disease –cloistered and sheltered from the outside world, until they could die in peace; or born dead like her latest delivery … a dead child, a girl with no eyes and hair, an abomination.

Elizabeth screamed to the top of her lungs; but it was no use, there was nobody coming to greet her, or kiss her cheeks and tell her it was alright; that was reserved for_ Meg_, '_little miss Perfect_' –Elizabeth thought with envy, who had a title and a father who loved her and would _die_ for her; while for her there was no one … not even a husband who loved her so.

--

Mary, _Meg's daughter_ as she was called by her Aunt, noticed that a gentleman nearby her Aunt carried a dead baby in her hands. She was told it was nothing for her to worry about, that it was none of her business; but it _was!_ Why did everybody had to treat her like a child! She was not a child anymore, not since her mother married that _Duke_ and her caretaker Anne had suffered through so many miscarriages, and seen the people revolt against their once beloved Queen … and her grandfather, on top of it all, in prison just because he was _not _**afraid** of expressing his beliefs! He was going to be condemned and killed just like her mother when she married that man! But if she could only go to the Queen and tell her Majesty to free her grandfather; she could grant him peace and another chance at living to make amends for all the crimes he committed against the Protestant Faction. It was of the utmost important that Mary got to her caretaker, the Queen; as soon as possible.

'_But how?'_ –She thought annoyed, wondering how it was possible that her Aunt Cecilia kept her here at bay for so long; when God knew that she was so faithful to the Queen and to be here with her Aunt Cecilia –her mother's youngest and impetuous sister– who _hated_ her mother's old guts, and her grandfather's; was just as frustrating as being in Court with men who were practically intolerant as the Old Faith they so condemned.

She hated being stuck in the body of a seven year old, why it was so frustrating for her of these happenings, and then her uncle Giles Heron; who had sworn the Queen that when she would take care of Mary, that he would take care of her as _"one of the greatest treasures of the monarchies … even as one of my own Your Majesty."_ –he had declared in what he called _"all honesty"_ to the Queen. And yet he_ lied_; since he took no remorse in mentioning how foolish her mother was for getting into trouble with the Duke by visiting her father, and how her grandfather had caused disgrace to all of the Mores and the only reason why _he_ took care for her was because the Queen commanded it so, but she always refused to nod to those words that came out from that foul mouth.

She may have the body of a child, but like her caretaker, Queen Anne Tudor-Boleyn had said, she had the mind and spirit of any Wise-man present at Court, and her will could make others, thousands, bow before her.

* * *

_**1535,**_** Hatfield:**

**Three Weeks later:**

Anne was in outrage, she had come to the Heron States to visit her ward and soon-to-be legal daughter, Mary Roper; but all she found was a girl with bruises on her cheek and on her back. Then there were also claw marks that roamed on either side of her legs, on her small thighs and her once rosy cheeks were now stained with remnants of old blood from wounds that –no matter how hard Dr. Linacre (the Royal Physician) worked to extinguished those quickly, they refused to disappear.

Anne had asked the More sisters _**what**_ _had_ happened? But they refused to say anything beyond "_the child had many accidents while she was in bed_". Then there was Giles Heron who had the uptight face of any ugly Courtier who treats his daughters like rag-dolls and trades them off … like _her father [traded her off –to Henry VIII]_.

God be praised for her knowledge, and her audacity; that Anne _found out _–for the greed of a maid sold off by more pounds than what she would make in a lifetime– that the _"cats"_ of the Heron family had been laid on Mary's bed whenever she was misbehaving and since many of them were not used to the company of a "stranger" like _"Meg's daughter"_ they obviously went into a rampage and like rabid dogs –they were responsible for making all of the awful claw marks that adorned the lower parts of her body.

She felt _responsible_ that she had left Mary in the care of those people, but she had to! She had so many things to attend, like her sweet and caring daughter Elizabeth, her Princess and as of now Heir Presumptive; although part of her wanted her not to become the soon-to-be Duchess Of York, for that meant that she would _**never**_ be Queen; but it must be done –she often told herself. _'After all'_, she thought –so sure of herself–, the King _must_ _"have a son …"_ –And she would deliver him of one. It was her duty and let the other laugh, she would have the last laugh in the end and all the others would just be fools in her Court. And they would pay for the offenses done to her and her family.

She would outsmart her father, brother and the rest of the Courtiers and come out as the _**true and only**_ **Queen** of England, High and Mighty above all women … _and men_ alike.

--

_**1535, April 5**__**th**__**.**_

_**Heron**_** Household:**

**Cecilia** _Heron_-More was walking through the alleyway of her home, as of far no others had answered any of her questions of who might have let _a slip of tongue to reach the Queen's ears_. Something that she hated, for she needed no more trouble because of her sister –the Duchess of Locksley. She had trouble enough, outsmarting her father from every writing letters to her again, not that she hated her father like her older sister; but the horrified wonder that her father was not the man he swore to be, often left her in tears of regret and disappointment –for so much she had given him, and so much he had claimed to give _them_.

Unrewardingly she had sought her father, even when he never sought her for her to please him in anyway possible; but that was never to be so because of his sins. For what was worse she had learned through her own mother's diary, a diary that she kept hidden –even from her father; that her father had done more damage to her than what the King or Queen had ever done to her _family_ or to Elizabeth. He had killed her! In her bed while she slept, when coming to her quarters at night she whispered 'Thomas' to her that he instead, whispered "Katherine"; and that had caused Joanne's [her mother's] madness to take possession of her heart and soul.

Her will had been diminished, and the child-like face that adorned her features, had turned into that of a hag, disappearing forever…

That was what her father was, a destroyer, a conqueror, no better than other Kings or Courtiers in the rest of the world … he too, had his harem of women, his own affairs, his own selling of daughters, and his own to beat at his will.

Another thing that Thomas had killed, she no longer called him 'father' after this; was her stepmother. She had given scarcely any contempt against her own father, any rage or any remorse, but in the end it was killing her from the bottom of her insides that her husband had not loved her! And she raged against her own self that this was her fault. But it was not Katherine's as she once thought; it was her father's.

Her little girl was tottering on her own now, unsupported by strong arms, and the child's face was under fatigue by half-closed eyes and she was dragging herself pathetically behind her sluggish and very pale and thin legs –that her own mother [Cecilia] had no choice but to grab her, and drag her, to the procession of the small Mass and Prayer room of where it lay next to her room.

"Tot … I hope you never get to meet your grandfather." –she said in quiet voice as her daughter fidgeted in her mother's arms. But the child, whose ears were as keen as any sneaky Courtier, had heard. Wishing she was _"Meg's daughter"_ she could do nothing but obey her mother, and her own God, but often she wondered if **there was something more **_[Out there]._

Here the husband and mother of two children –that now lay buried beneath their grounds– were sitting gallantly erect on their chairs, with their live ones. Waiting for the _Lord_ to speak to them, –as it had spoken to them long ago, when their family was still safe from the outside world.

* * *

**_[Past]_**

**1491.**

**John More's Household: _Wife and son outside their Household's Gardens._**

"Thomas" A man's voice thundered through the rough winds, looking for something that was **his**; he was looking for the property that his wife had brought him since 11 years ago when _she_ bore _him _to this world. Thomas More, his eleven year old son. Waiting for the boy had caused most of his migraine to increase his problems; he had prayed –to God and the Devil–for a son, and finally … _they_ had given him one; one to fulfill his ambitions and to leave to him the greatest possibilities untouchable by any common man, but nay … Thomas was not a common man, nor the boy would ever be; he would reach the sky and make thing happened that were beyond the reach and dreams of his father and family.

He would make John's name and Household proud, all of them; even if he had to beat the boy with a rod and take him away from all childish needs and _… fun_ –he would do it, to make John Moore's future legacy a _'dream come true' _from all the hardships his family had brought unto England and unto the '_new'_ so called King of England.

Ha! King of England, bullocks! The man was not even a gentleman, much less a commander and leader of his Country! He was as plain and ugly as any countrymen or gentle commoners roaming around in the poor streets of London. What made the people think that he could be a good leader or that his son –and _heir_– could be one that they hoped for? They were pathetic, the whole lot of Tudors. He did right in hiding the "_Princess in the Tower_" at his House and raising them with Thomas. That way the boy would have serious playmates and less time for silly games, the boy needed to grow up and if suffering was what _he _needed, he would do so.

In another corner, where his father could not find him, or _her "husband"_; John's wife –Agnes Grainger-More. She sat down next to her child –her _beautiful _child made to perfection by the nature she worshiped, Thomas, a sweet name; _yet_ –she often thought– a _"Christian"_ name that his father had given him. Not a worthy and deserving name for such a pure child, untainted by the blackness of men's heart, her Thomas More. Her Galahad, a true Welsh name from the old people that used to live here, before the unfaithful Gaul-men turned Christian French that came from Normandy to ravage the land of her ancestors, and the Angles, Saxon and Jutes that were nothing more than scum compared to her old Gods and _pagan_ myths of centuries of loving tradition by the Celt and the old Welsh folk.

Traditions, that she felt, were the only legacy that she could leave on to her son; and then him to pass unto his family, when ever he would decide to settle down and be a good man, **unlike** his father.

"Galahad … [laughter from both mother and son]" –Her son perked up once more as mother gave unto him a small medal, but upon him receiving her "gift", his father came and brusquely took it away from him, smashing his "gift" on the wall from outside his home.

"Papa**!**" – "**Papa** ... **!!**" He called to John More, but John More brusquely told Thomas in a raised and grave voice to go back inside. His son obeyed him, the boy knew it was not a question; it was an order! And he had no choice but to obey his Papa, for business could go worse for him if he even went against his orders. He had _seen_ how it was for other youngsters his age who went against their fathers; they had received beatings –and some, had been dragged mercilessly to watch as their fathers beat other boys, making them feel guilty for their 'sins', for in their hands lied the wellbeing of another boy, whether servant or their _equals_.

"How dare you _**hide**_ that from me**!** Give that to Thomas?" –He called after his wife, Agnes, a dear and passive woman of Welsh ancestry, somewhat like John –raised in the same Household. But with a mind more open to other ideas that she _wished_ often to instill upon Thomas-Galahad her son. Growing on the sharp edge of her father's strictness and close minded religion, who offered nothing more than to burn innocents to the stake. She bowed her head before their God, before Christ; but never before their beliefs. Inside she believed none of those bullocks that they taught in Church!

She had her own, and she knew Tommie would one day have his own too, and valiant enough to fight for those beliefs, unlike her. But like her, she hoped; he would dare to have some judgment to do what was best for him and his family, devoid of any fanaticism or stupidity like his father.

"Mother!" He wanted to scream down to help her, but he could not! His father would murder him and his mother's eyes that saw through Thomas' or Galahad [as she called him] stricken face told him that she would be more disturbed, or, disappointed, if she saw her son doing something she considered_ foolish_. He could not afford to disappoint his mother.

But he would fight for her; he knew he had to as his duty to her as her son and her loyal protector.

* * *

**Tower of London**

**[Present]**

As the miles of his mind were covered by more pain and suffering, hidden memories that came from nowhere until now, did Thomas realized how much he had disappointed his mother –for being a fool in the end– by going against her most precious beliefs and what she tried to teach him, before his father intervened.

"_Mama! Mama! … Please Papa … do not let mama die … she is not a witch!"_ –A young boy he recalled had screamed so many times, wishing his voice would be heard, and when it was not, it died down and turned into something else … nothing; and later on when there was no mother to console him –he grew up, becoming a _lawyer_. –Wishing to appease the King he became a representative for his Church, burning seven innocents to the stake for beliefs that went against his own.

His father going behind his back; he watched as he _processed_ his _mother_ into the chambers, where his book told him how to punish those that were unworthy and unhole-undeserving of the Lord Jesus Christ's grace for Salvation. Vindicated by the fact that his wife had done her duty to God and Christ, to _'him'_ [Thomas misserably thought] giving him a son, his conscience had cleared quite rapidly, reminding him that a new day had come to pass and now he was _"free"_ to remarry and raise his son as he pleased; teaching him the good values of Christ and Family morals.

And behind all this, he could hear his mother's regretful voice for having him; feel her tears running against his cheek as she spoke spare words that did nothing more but make him feel worse than the vermin he already thought he had become. In these last months as he reviewed his life, he realized how much madness he had caused, how much _suffering_ for his family, and how much waste feelings of joy he had had for Katherine, –while two wives who needed him the most lay at bay, waiting for his presence. But he had never showed up for them.

In an epitaph that he wrote -seconds ago before his nightmares about his mother- where he revived his most darkest memories from the most obscure places of his mind, where all the demons of lies and cheat lied; he declared that of all his wives, he could not decide which [Joanne or Alice] he loved the most, whether it was Joanne for bearing him four wonderful children, or Alice for being a good substitute mother for his children, -and, he further declared, that if it was possible to God, that they would all be reunited in Heaven.

* * *

_A/N:_

_Hey guys hoped u liked the chapter now what I meant in deaths is not everything is at seems like, and to this I put in the clue in Thomas' mother, regardless to say I have said enough, you know that John More died in this AU by the time before Mary Tudor, that is Princess of Wales Mary Tudor before she was disowned from her father, refused to be recognized as his daughter and of her title since her legitimacy was not recognized and also doubted she was Henry's daughter from Isabella's previous marriage; so John died before Mary reached the age of five. So he died much, much earlier than on original history, basing myself also on the show where there is no John More by the time of 1521, so basing myself on that, he died before that. And Thomas' mother, Agnes Grainger-More; is relevant to Thomas' haunting and nightmares where he remembers before making his epitaph, sorry guys but the end is nearing, yes you will cry for Thomas More and Anne Boleyn but remember! Nothing is as it seems, things will be slightly different, there will be a twist you will see!  
As for his mother, yes she died and here you see how I imply how she died, and how the referral as her as a witch for wanting to teach her son different ... lead to ..._

_R/R._


	26. Mirrors

_**A/N:**_

_Yes the climax is almost near. Sorry guys but to ladyjax999, AestheticNarcissist and KahunaSama and ReganX for the last three chapters. And too all my reviewers:D This chapter is to the music video that AestheticNarcissist made for me on request on youtube, thank-you so much, I will post the video and any request you might have with her permission, she makes great videos guys! Thank you so much to all!_

_Aesthetic thanks girl for the vid and your support. To Ladyjax999,ladyredvelvet,kahunasama,reganx,dvilshemaycrie, boleyngirl13,lemondropseverus,boleyn of aragon21 to all my reviewers of all my stories thank-you so much._

_The climax is approaching for two characters that you feel will be most affected, and they will ... perhaps, it is for you to find out, remember nothing is as it seems.  
The quote I chose it because many had forgot the name of Sir Thomas by not remembering him as a mentor or what he once was, and the people enraged by Henry's actions and what they feel is the Queen's actions too; are also not forgetting, now they are remembering, but not in the way you think and Henry will be enraged and he will act in ways that are upsetting and yes violence and battles up ahead. Also clues as to how their past influences them and how their reality and their times are betraying them, they want to get safety, yet their ideals are so different, and their situation for each safety depends or could depend on the other's downfall._

_And yes it is a very long chapter! Lol Enjoy_

_R/Review._

* * *

_**Chapter 24**__**: "**_**Mirrors"**

"_That's a name I haven't heard in a long time … long time ago …" –_Obi Wan Kenobi (Alec Guinness), **Star Wars: A New Hope (**1977**)**

**--**

**1535, March 31st.**

**Tower of London:**

"_I never had to say goodbye_

_You must've known I wouldn't stay …_

_While you were talking about our life …_

_You killed the beauty of today."_

**--**

_**Thomas More Speaks:**_

I have heard many names from my childhood now that I haven't been called in a long time, in a _**very**_ long time _… long time _[indeed].

And as much as I hear those names; I seem to have no recollection of my father ever stopping my ears from hearing them … the man, even as he was old and on the verge of dying comfortably on _his bed_; never ceased from reminding _me_ of _my _**duty** to the King, and to the People whom I would be serving. Always above all to keep my _head on my shoulders_ and on the ground where it should be. On the afternoon of October the 27th my father left me … left us … me and Alice with bitter tears. Yet I cried not for my father, but for the many words that I never got to say to him … for the many kisses and his touch of lips that never passed my cheek.

While I struggled with my children; wondering each day, why _was I_ not a good father? In _what did I fail _in their upbringing for them to end up in so much misbehaving? I realized, at last; that my own father's sins and mistakes were passed on to me –to be passed unto my children, and my curse of my sins with _… her_; to be passed unto Alice and Joanne's unborn male children. My would-be second male heirs … my _offspring_ … _gone_. Just like the wind, for my own account to pay of my sins.

Sins that I carried with my heart and that my conscience never left me alone with … until now … Now that I am facing death, finally my conscience can be rest assured that of all my sins, all of them, that I did and committed against God; this once chance, this _one opportunity_, will redeem myself from all the bad and wrong done in my life.

To my wives; I cannot say that I loved _them_, or that I did not. Both were especial and unique in their own way … and as I do not want to sound too much _like my own son's worst humor …_ before I go to divert from the matter at hand; I know that _deep _down inside; my wife Katherine, and my _**present**_ wife Alice More; will always take care and live to the legacy I left behind for them, for that is all I can give before I_ "depart"_ from this world.

"_Forever and ever …_

_Life is now or never._

I have a feeling that I will come back, that someday I will come back unto this world and visit all the places that I didn't visit before. And I will see my children again, not now … but soon.

* * *

**1535, March 31st.**

**Tower of London:**

**(Prisoner's Quarter, Sir Thomas More):**

_Yet_ Thomas had said that despite the same confusion in his face, and his never ending trust for the human race; Thomas More was nothing more than a delusional man, a man of dreams, and poor visions of a future that was _never _to be –"_**only in his dreams**_", they said.

_Forever never comes around._

_People love and let go,_

_forever and ever;_

_life is now or never_

_Forever's gonna slow you down …_

He would never see again the forever loveth _beauty _of a _Princess_ who once swore to love and protect her adopted Country; the sweet perfume –and scent of her rose aroma-hair … and the kindness that _she_ gave to him and her subjects each day as she stood by, side by side, with her son and Her Country. And now, that same Country that she swore and Oath to –_when she __**married**_–was abandoning her and throwing her out into the mercy of her son's wolves to do with her as they pleased.

And she had no allies, lover, husband or friends to console her in her time of need …

It was only her and the remembrance of what _she once was_ … a _Princess_; lost in the Castle by an _old_ King and an old _hag_, and a sweet and kind Knight who spotted her on the cold rain –and attempted to rescue her from her prison.

--

"_You'll never see me again, so now who's gonna cry for you?_

_You'll never see me again,_

_No matter what you do._

On the afternoon of March 1st 1535, Thomas' long wait to have a word with his _'second'_ wife ended and he greedily waited for the constable to open the door quickly for him, so he could get a sight of his aging wife Alice, and get to hear [in what he _never_ thought he would miss …] her harsh and plain speaking words … then there was his daughter Margaret, who he was sure that even as a year had passed –she was still as bright and beautiful as ever. '_Surely_ – _a little tragedy …'_ –he thought; would not ruin away her cheerfulness and her beauty. But he was once again, like many times in life; proven wrong.

Her old and silk like Princess clothing; were now withered away, and her emblem of her husband (Locksley) was nothing more than an old stained artifact that seemed to be withered away by the hundreds of years of decay. She seemed to be nothing like the old Meg he remembered … _proud and jovial_, cheerful and_ kind_; now in her place was an old hag, with old hats and old hair, and her belly that was swollen with signs of new pregnancy, was now ruining her figure. She no longer was Meg More or Meg Roper; she was just a ghost; a dead specter, phantom of what once was.

Like a _mirror _… his reflection _too_ centered on her old, hag face.

"_You'll never see me again;_

_so now who's gonna cry for you?"_

_You'll never see me again …_

_no matter what you do."_

And he couldn't help but _wonder_ that when her labour would start; that the heralds and blessing of her _'new'_ family would be done the same way and manner as with her _'old'_ and natural family. The widening remorse of each reached out, and soon father and daughter, for the first time in years since she married, embraced each other and prayed together for what would be a safe return of each … to freedom.

For three days and nights Margaret lay with the ordeal, submitting herself to the recurrent waves of pain, biting back her moans which a _Duchess_ –even if she wasn't born one– must never concede; no matter how much her heartache. The window of her father's cell, so high and gloomy –where barely the sun shone to meet his wet stained eyes, [no doubt by the pain that his daughter's eyes shone at having to bear the _Duke_ Locksley another baby, hopefully a boy this time] had left Margaret wishing [secretly] to God, that her father would sooner die, than to endure this awful prison. Where it was tightly shut and the gray walls, intensified by the throng of guards guarding his cell, while the King and his father's Judges who _still_ lay at bay deciding his last verdict, were suffocating Thomas of his last breaths as he lay on the verge of loosing his mind to madness.

Alice too could see it, and yet she did nothing; part of her wished _this_ fate on nobody, but she could not continue to endure the pain of having to deal with Thomas … it was causing her to wear away what little patience she had in her marriage, and to the realization that she would soon be a widow –to a man who had not the courage to admit that he was sinful, both to her and to the Country … and top of it all! That he was too proud and too much of an idealist, an honest man –to admit and swear to the Oath as the King as the _Supreme Head_ of the _Church_.

She had told him that she had sworn it and his family too, and they felt no worse for it … in fact; Margaret and her husband [Duke of Locksley] were the first ones in the Country's borders of Scotland, to swear it –and of his family; and they too did more out of hypocrisy than of belief. Just because _they _swore it; she told him, did not mean that they believed any lie or hypocrite words that the King spat through his dogs –that he called Councilors–, they were still of the 'Old' Faith, and of the 'Old' ways, and nothing would ever change that. It had happened during Roman times as Thomas once said, with the Romans burning Christians and Christians to save themselves kept Roman idols of the Emperor's heads and they felt no worse for it, for _they __had_ God as their witness and their protector.

"Alice! _[sighs] _I am not saying that you cannot swear! … I am saying that _**I**_ myself cannot swear!" He made this clear by extending his palms to Alice, hoping that _she _might receive them as a sign of his 'love and affection' for her. But she refused him, as she did when she let go of his palms when he first asked her _was this not her home as close to heaven?_ –She was on a rampage, blind by rage, and lust and finally –helplessness; that she soon, would be left alone and to deal with the hardships of the world. Without a husband, son, daughter or grandchildren to help her.

Time after time they had discussed martyrdom; but she never listened, for Thomas to make his stubborn listen was an ordeal. Not like his sweet and patient daughter Margaret, who was _as passive_ –and with tender-sweet-care like her mother had once been [_in their first years of marriage_]_._

Alice to his judgment failed to understand that he needed this, the only thing that was true and faithful in his life. Not to escape from reality or from his problems, but to remain in peace, to show others that there were other things more important than wealth, money or death, as they were worse. And if only others could see the world in the same manner he saw it, years before –when his strict father was not there to _rob_ of his dreams and loves … If _only_ Katherine … _'No!'_ –He said to himself; she was not here! And there was no reason to dwell with her memory, or, with her sweet aroma and perfume or fresh roses that she used to wear on her fresh hair, straight when she would get out from her frequent showers … ready to bed him, _her husband._

"_You never heard me break your heart … You didn't wake up when we died,_

_Since I was lonely from the start;_

_I think the end is mine to write …"_

But they were not married. He never believed they were. An illusion of fate, destiny … and of the cruelty of life, that's all they were, ghosts, remnants of what they once were.

Thomas had not lied to his wife, but he had lied to his soul and heart when he wrote his poems about love; stating that the most important thing was honesty and God; when in fact it was –courage. To face the unknown in naked armor –and risk one's love for that _loved _one, even if such got burned in the process –he would never care, for he had the haste of his love by its side, no matter if the 'love' was reciprocate for him or her.

But for Thomas it _**had**_ mattered; and that was what led him to his failure with Katherine … and Joanne.

Something fundamental in the soon-to-be dead man warned him that the sight of reviving old memories would only make his procession to his martyrdom –ever more harder than what it already was by the pain of seeing his _only_ daughter a haggard; unloved and alone –in a world where the perpetual winds of fate had decided to take retribution against her for her father's sins _against_ the established Monarchy– with no one else to turn to. Meg faced an age where women could no longer trust the men they had besides them, an age that no longer qualified for them to breathe safely and have the satisfaction of education; for the King –now mighty in all his rulings– had himself declared "Head of the Church"; and English Pope, and he could do so as he pleased to eliminate in a single blink of an eye all his enemies, even those he loved –but that he viewed were an obstacle– were not safe.

--

"_Forever and ever, life is now or ever,_

_forever never comes around_

_People love and let go_

_Forever and ever, _

_Life is now or ever …_

_Forever is gonna slow you down."_

One figure alone among the seething mass and the migraine that he felt for God _wronging_ Elizabeth by making her born a girl_, instead of a boy_; was eased as the epitome of cheerful confidence in Henry rose once again, and his aura of optimism once again rose higher amongst all of Court. _'This time …_' –He said to himself, and others, with confidence in his voice; that God would grant him a son … A son to carry on his name, and the _name_ of the Tudor _'legacy'._ The Tudor Legacy –he was sure this time; would _survive_ … with Anne and Elizabeth.

His newborn son would not ruin that; he would only reinforce his assessment –that marrying Anne was the best choice that was laid on his table.

'_Whatever was left of it anyway.' _–Henry thought as his misery wallowed within him. His once friend and mentor: Thomas More, had been one of the greatest influences in Henry's life, and now he **too** had ruined his friend. His mentor … and his _father_ [it still sounded so foreign to Henry]. It was as if nothing … nothing had prepared him for this.

Children were so foreign to these troubles, to these emotions –he looked through his daughter's _[the Princes_s_] _window to see her dancing, and jumping on the garden that he had remodeled, along with his mother; just for _'her'_; for Elizabeth, his Golden Pearl. And yet … he felt as if the child knew more than she should; at her young years of age –she had the mind of a twenty year old. Thinking about dances, parties, masquerades, theater and the _many_ arts that he and her mother loved, but _other part of her_ …held more wisdom and curiosity [much to his and his wife's surprise] –than any other man, scholar or Humanist on English soil. _Sometimes_ he even envied his own daughter, that she had so much to hope for … and he had nothing, but with a difficult decision to kill a man who once had been his friend, his mentor and that for many years … had helped Henry with his education and his reign, more than anybody else on the Kingdom; even more than his mother …

To think what this could _do_ to her –Henry pushed** it** aside. It did not matter anymore; all that mattered –was that the deed was to be done soon, so all in England could see that the King of England showed no mercy to _traitors_, no matter how close they were to him; 'father' _or_ mother.

* * *

"_You'll never see me again._

_So now who's gonna cry for you …_

_You'll never see me again,_

_No matter what you do._

The dome was neatly laid out with two weapons on each side of the wooden log. On the left was a sword –long and thin but with sharpness that could _cut_ through a man in half, while the other; was an _axe_, the _'traitor's kill'_. As it was dubbed, it was suppose to cut through the neck, starting with the artery that held all of the blood flowing in the human body, then it cut through the rest of the neck –leaving nothing else behind but a clean cut done by a master swordsman, _or_, in the case of the axe; a Professional, a henchman as somebody would say … somebody who would not ask questions or receive mercy from others, he did his duty and got paid for it, so he could kill and take many lives afterwards.

_Thomas_ knew these_ henchmen_ as people liked to call them; but he view not as good or bad. Just as _men_ –doing their jobs, so they could bring food on the table. _'No different'_ –he thought amused, as he looked through his window at the many Courtiers [Boleyn –he thought despicably, among one of them.]; than any of them standing from outside his window. In reality all men were the same, the only difference was that Politicians like Nobles only loaded the gun –and ordered the _'henchmen' _to do the kill; while they swallowed the riches of those they killed, swimming with their money, their clothing and their wives … while others wallowed in their misery for their lost ones.

They were both despicable … nobles and henchmen. But at least henchmen were known to regret it afterwards if it was somebody whom they held respect for, at least they groveled at _your_ feet and calmly, very softly [depending who they dealt with at their last moments], said through their rough lips a _'forgive me'_ piece … and then, some, even waited until that person could give the signal to be lifted up and above, ending their lives very soon after the henchman would lift his axe.

* * *

**(**_**1535**_**)**

**April 5th.**

**More Household, Chelsea.**

"_You'll never see me again …_

_So now who's gonna cry for you._

_You'll never see me again …_

_No matter what you do"_

Alice More would not stop crying, and as hard as her stepmother and "_nurse_" tried to silence her; she would not shut up her little mouth. She just kept making more noise and noise, until Alice's nerves could stand no longer and she decided to call somebody to take the child from her sight.

Nobody would come … she laughed. Remembering there were not servants; it was just absurd to think that some of them would come. He had dismissed them all on ground of his good "mercy" that they deserved better than an impoverished Master, that could get them all killed or without a home. And he had gotten them without a home, now they were in another one's –where Alice thought they had it all.

A roof, a loving family, money to pay off all their debts, and masters to employ them –and their children– for the rest of their lives. –While Alice; was with a child, who had nothing but an _"envious stepmother", __**wicked **_and _mad _for the child's mother.

Katherine had bore a child not too long ago –a child that had not laid cold or "still" like Joanne's or like Alice's _dead boys_. –Whom Alice had no regret over Thomas for loosing him– But alive, and hot, with rosy cheeks of a _'Princess;'_ and with lips as red as once the Infanta's had been before she came down from Spain to disembark on England.

"_Forever and ever,_

_life is now or never, forever never comes around …_

_People love and let go …_

_Forever and ever_

_Life is now or never,_

_forever's gonna slow you down"_

"Mother." John called from behind Alice, and she responded only with a nod to the head, giving him little Alice More to take care of her. It was clear that had been a bad idea –from his _father's part_– to let his wife take care of _her_. Alice was not responsible for a child that had not been hers, much less from one that had been the product of Thomas' separation from his wife. Alice moaned in despair as she heard the quiet screams from the child beginning to quiet down –as she went into John More's arms.

In life as in death, it seemed; she would never be in peace as long as one child or offspring of Katherine lived.

Leaving flowers on John's side -so the room could smelt better, after the baby's body odor had left the room in a sort of mess- she left.

It was a situation that both understood with danger, it could take an easy-going woman and an understandable one to madness –to take care of her husband's daughter –product of an affair. John said no comforting words to his surrogate mother, he did not need to; nor if he did wanted to. She had made his decision by sticking close to his father, while he had made his own.

Along with Elizabeth.

* * *

**1535, May 5th.**

**London City: "Battle of the Spades"**

"_You'll never see me again_

_So now who's gonna cry for you_

"_You'll never see me again …_

_No matter what you do_

The Battle of the Spades was a play that people from London had created years before the King's Ceremony with his _first_ Queen, which had now been _"proven"_ to them that the marriage was in fact, an incestuous one. It was a play where people from all over England reunited in the lower slums to comment on the early decision of the new Tudor Monarch from so long ago that had stepped on the throne through lies and deceit, a man whom descended from commoner's blood and had beat the _over zealous and over powerful_ –Plantagenet Ruling Family in their own dirty game of killing each other with the sword, until one victor emerged.

That victor had been Henry the Seventh; whom with no manners of a Royal or born in Royal nurseries like other Princes of Europe, he had climbed up the Social Ladder by taking the Crown and naming himself King after battle, and taking one of the girls –a true Heir to the Throne, and a Queen in her own right– to be his wife and obedient Consort. A role that was not meant, they all agreed; to be hers but of her husband's yet Henry the Seventh, as with many of his Conquers to the Plantagenets he had won in the end.

And there was nothing they could do, they all mouthed "The King is the King!" and fell numbly drunk into their chairs.

Then somebody whispered that King Henry was the King, and they all nodded numbly once again.

Nobody cared anymore who was and who was to be the next King of England.

The issue with them was to celebrate their dark and somber Opera. Where they mocked the 'Tudors' and they mocked recently the King and his new Queen … a Queen that they had all felt would bring them hope; but instead, had brought them despair. Closing down the monasteries and even other institutions not affiliated to them –with her wickedness used to obtain the _persuasion_ of her husband– she had sent all farmers into impoverished lands, with no exports and no hope of commerce, many had to sell off their own homes [that they had worked to build, and get -for years of cheating and stealing from others within their legal means of trade] and live off into the streets where they had to beg for money, and afterwards _if they were caught_; branded, with a hot iron –the sign of beggars branded on their skin forever as a sign of shame.

'_Sinners' _and _'Bullocks'_ they whispered -as the men let on folk images of old Welsh tales, mixed with Angle and Saxon's for the actors to interpret them on stage. Their theater was old and with no roof to cover them, but it was all they had. And they loved it. No monarchy. Here they had freedom. They had liberty, they had all the things which they had craved and begged for Parliament to give to them, and they never had. Here there were free-men, equals beyond their measure and free to do what they pleased.

"_Ladies!"_ –One of the spectators yelled to his fellow ladies. And they all laughed, even if there was no joke –they laughed for it was a merry and comical moment that was about to commence. One blinded from the eyes of the King. Where _he_ was at the Center-Stage, portrayed by his true colors by an actor who resembled him only in his height, but with make up of a clown everybody shouted –_"he is the same, King Henry the balls of England!"_ and others very _meekly bowed_ before him. "_Bless the King of England_" –They yelled.

The stage went into a dead silence as the fake King prepared to speak, but all that came out from his mouth was air –followed by laughter by the stage. This meant something to them, that their King was nothing more than a man with the face of an angel, but with the empty promises of a Devil –in disguise as a 'true' King. Then his "Queen" came, all dressed in rich-silk (fake, but made out to look real to the simple people of London) –her red colors following her as she knelt madly before the King, crying and yelling at him. Another woman followed her from behind and then put a leg across the King's foot. Like a serpent they meant to portray her, was Queen Anne Tudor-Boleyn. Their _May Queen_, a commoner who had been the People's Queen –but now was a further disappointment than by far what Isabella had been. The Queen slithered her arm around the King's and the woman in silk red; yelled like mad then she let herself drop dead, holding a goblet of poison in her hand.

Everybody booed and others roared with laughter at the new couple of King and Queen as they married before the dead body of 'Isabella'.

Then as the play progressed and made more satirical fun of the King's private life; they introduced a new character, one that needed no name to be introduced, for they all _knew _her too well.

Princess Dowager, the Infanta –Katherine of Aragon.

"_The lover and harlot of 'Saint 'Sir Thomas More"_ Some yelled and they all numbly bowed before the two lovers, snickering and dropping their glasses, some to drunk to keep standing up or kneeling. In that moment of awkwardness; the King's soldiers came storming to the play, and arrested everybody.

"_You'll never see me again_

_So now who's gonna cry for you_

_You'll never see me again_

_No matter what you do"_

Henry had made it quite clear when he stated before his Council-men, that not one offense! –would go unpunished, and if he had to send spies and Countrymen to betray their fellow loved ones; he would do it with all the Authority invested in him by _All-Mighty _God. Holbein, who might have been blamed once for his artistic talents and free expression of art –was now the King's favored painter along within the midst of the Boleyn's favor. But those –who dared to defy the Boleyns and their power, were all punished by the King, and by the King _himself_, using his many henchmen to inflict torture, and in some worse cases, death.

**Upon** those who had been arrested [who were the conspirators of mounting the play –to go unnoticed for many years] the fate of hanging, quartering and beheading –the worse fate that there could be– lay at bay, and this time; their satirical play of laughter, would not receive the same response of "glamour" and "glitz" as it had with the poor people of London.

Here the spectators would be the Nobles and the Courtiers, and the actors if they died, when they died! Would be the actors, and the director would be the King, sitting behind the curtain –watching as the spectacle slowly unfolded behind his eyes –and his Queen, slowly coming behind him to feed him grapes of pleasure with her merry laughter.

--

"_Forever and ever_

_Life is now or never … Forever and ever …Life is now or never._

_Forever's gonna slow you down"_

Henry had indeed sat behind the Curtain; but not the curtain that they all thought he would be sitting. This was another curtain. A curtain where he laid in peace with two women, one of whom; was his daughter Elizabeth -sitting on his father's knee while the other; was her mother –Anne Boleyn, sitting patiently next to her husband's side, –while playing with her daughter in peace.

They did not seem to hear the screams, or the yelling of protests of the many commoners outside their doors. All that lay for this peaceful family, was a placid ambient where all the curtain of revelations was not yet shown, where all their show was only to be laid in a play of games and grace. Where there were no wars, no Katherine of Aragon, Thomas More or other family troubles that might disturb this family's happy moment.

In these times is where Henry Tudor _truly_ felt happy. And his wife besides him, a trophy, was an angel in disguise, with the soft pale-skin and ebony hair that made every man in England, die with desire at the sight of her. But only one man was ever allowed to touch her, and her eyes had only desire for that man.

* * *

**1535, April**

**The More:**

**Katherine** was weaving through another dress; it was baby's clothes all she made these days. They reminded her of her lost child. Elizabeth [her attendant and confidant] knew very well who she meant.

For the past year and a half, Katherine had mourned the loss of her daughter, the sweet Alice. She had bore a daughter with such love, and to be taken from her –from the man she _used_ to love– brought her great pain to heart. He had promised _–_he would take care of her, but he had not kept his word. All she kept hearing was that John More was making accusation to the child's mother; that is her! That she was an inadequate mother, and that the child –if she would have stayed close to Katherine's side and Castle, would have died of the _'sweating'_ or of any wicked Spanish Craft Katherine might've dared to induce on her child. To say such words, were blasphemous and they themselves [those who whispered them!] wicked!

How dared they think that she would harm her child!

A child, that she helped create with love!

Were they that stupid, or had they run out of any blame games to put on Katherine, that it was nothing better than to fabricate new lies?

Was this where England had come up to? To lies and deceit of the worst kind, with the son behind it! Was this were the Country was leading itself by –by his King?

Was this it?

Katherine wanted answers, but the more her conscience and brain shouted for justice and a fair explanation of the many happenings as a whole, the more her body went into a strain of tiredness making her crumble unto the floor, where she threw the many food she ate. Spitting the blood from her lips [that had once been adorned by another red color] and now were blue and swollen, with the winter cold effect of last year.

Katherine could resist no more of this pain. To be separated from her granddaughters, and her daughter! It was unbearable, beyond any pain she had ever received. A wound through her heart, they pierced her with an arrow, and the many holding the crossbow, not finished yet of causing more harm; had been Henry –_**and**_–_she reminded herself_– John More [The Elder].

"_You'll never see me again_

_So now who's gonna cry for you … You'll never see me again_

_No matter what you do_

Long dead, the old man was still a cause to haunt Katherine's and Thomas' dreams. Reflections of their past shone a man older enough to be Thomas' grandfather, but one that had seemed to love his son as his most prized possession; who had taken care of him, and loved him beyond in any measure. And it was upon meeting him, after their son was King; that the mirror image –that Thomas and she had held in Court– broke, shattered, in a million peaces. And one of those shattered pieces never lay at rest, there she could still see the old man laughing at his son; congratulating him for his new marriage. Making him feel proud of "_his_" _achievement … of how far he had come, how great he had become._

And through that shattered piece of glass, an arrow had been formed. One that later pierced through Katherine's form as her baby was snatched from her! By another old man, but with the face of an angel and a youngster, that was the spitting image of his first namesake! John More the Second, the Youngest of the Mores by Thomas' hollow wife –Joanne.

"_You'll never see me again_

_So now who's gonna cry for you_

How that boy hated her so!

"_You'll never see me again_

_No matter what you do"_

And how she made his life ever the more impossible a living hell! A harpy she had been, behaving like one of the furies in the Greek myth of the Iliad; coming unto him like an angry lion, waiting to defend her young. She had never trusted him; and when she had met _him_ at Court –when her son was only eighteen –and had just appointed Cardinal Wolsey as his secretary [a mistake that she felt he repeated many times often with other Council-men, including _his "father"_.] –she had leaned unto the nine year old impetuous boy and whispered to him that should he ever cause a scandal, she would [with a laughter added to soothe his nerves before his pale _father_] throw him from the tower of London and into the river fall, where he would drown in disgrace and in foolishness.

For the first time, John his father's son, had failed to see the Princess in her good graces. But it seemed to Katherine that the impression of fright, had only lasted _**too**_ little, and it had left on him an imprint of self-foolishness and regret, not at _her_, but at himself for not fighting back. And now –the only way he could find– fighting back meant to play dirty, stealing away her child; raising her as his own, and while his father stayed in the tower he taught his daughter to play.

--

**(**_**1535**_**)**

**July: The Trial's Finale:**

"_Forever and ever …_

_Life is now or never_

_Forever never comes around …"_

The verdict, in a place not far away from the key players –products of shattered mirror caused by an old man a two nagging wives– was being laid on the three most powerful minds on England. Three men who did not want to seat close to each other, laid the fact and arguments against the case of the once known living Saint on England, now nothing more than a ghost, they decided it was time that they processed him; and make his verdict known to the people. His _"beliefs" _were a danger to the Crown and Country, and his revelry could continue to show no more. It broke the fury on Cromwell and the two men that for the first time in their short period of dealing with traitors, and being in the midst of the King's favor; lay a case that was beyond any solution or solving. There was only one way out, but to take that –they would open Pandora's Box, jeopardizing the People of England's favor for their King.

No matter how much they hated him; they were still obedient not to revolt against him. But any sign of killing their once favorite martyr, they would not last a second before they would let their anger take hold of their reason, and revolt against the King; getting a lot of innocent blood shredded, and chaos for it.

Anne and Henry –waiting in suspense while **He** summoned Cromwell to know what the trial had turned out to– beguiled at the thought of having to see the man they once called _"the most Saintly man in England"_ burned, quartered, or … beheaded. Inwardly, Henry's self prayed that he would not die! That Sir Thomas would repent and that he would sign the bloody Oath **once and for all.** **For God damn that man!** He had caused nothing more than turmoil in Henry's conscience.

His mind wanted to kill him, told him that he was a spare waste of blood, but that it was necessary for the Country to know that he held no place for traitors, and that if he wanted order and for his Dynasty to survive; everybody had to be united, and no disturbances could be held –for they could afflict others to cause discern among his fellow English men, whom he was committed to guard and protect until his last drop of blood flowed from his body!

But then his conscience and his heart! Told him that he could not kill him! That he was just insignificant, unimportant to his cause; that he could let him out, in prison to rot for the rest of his days, or put him in a home, in penury to live in shame –where he would cause no harm or bad influence to others, or to his Country.

_Life is now or never_

_Forever never comes around …"_

But then, his mind and conscience whispered at the same times, and this is where Henry got frustrated! If he let him free from his crime of not signing, others could easily get out from the easy task of doing to their duty by pledging loyalty to the King and to their Head of their new Church, the True Church.

As the day passed and the night transformed to the coming of the evening Sun, he received the verdict of _his father, mentor Thomas More_. And turning a blind and neutral eye to Cromwell, seeming uncaring of the situation; he asked "when?" –He responded softly, yet coldly –devoid of any emotions, with eyes as black as a crow [like his wife's] to not upset the King any further, he backed away, backing his gaze from the King's downward stare –"The Seventh of this month." He mouthed slowly.

The King, Henry turned to look behind him, where a crazy and merry family were silently laughing, amusing themselves as the Earl's daughter and _May Queen_ sang for them –while strutting proudly through the palace in her yellow colors. Not aware of her husband's pain for having to deal to the death, that his Ministers could only remind him, it was necessary to escape from the revelry that had surged on his Kingdom.

'_One traitor less … one traitor more. A mentor dead –a wife and her family … living merrily and happy.'_ –What difference did it make?

He turned away from the happy sight and went back at his death, where he signed a few more papers before he dismissed Cromwell and told him to carry on the sentence with no delay.

* * *

_A/N:_

_We are getting to the "End" of TBPII, TBPII will offer many surprises. Guys I do warn that if you are lightheaded next chapters will offer further surprises, and this as the title says Mirrors is because they are all mirrored by their past, in their life they still when they look at the mirror they see in everything, remnants of the past and is only because again the fact that everything __Has__ to be complicated that simpler cannot just be because it cannot, whereas if people could find things simpler and just say we can, we just believe we can't, things would be so much better. The fact that people do not make things simple is always a problem -still persists today. But sadly it is not so and so they will face hardships however death is not necessarily a head or a quartering or a sword, death will be much different. For there are worse things than death and here you will see much harder things, realistic but also harder and I will include some happy moments but you are to be warned of the chapters ahead, don't worry I will include a moment of happiness or what the characters consider it not too long ago._


	27. Fear

_**A/N:**_

I chose the title Fear because you will see what it represents in the characters, and I put the inner turmoil do not judge them easily as you might do or harsh these are after all just people in situations which were you in, would you react the same or the opposite and what can you do to survive, it is not that easy.

Special thanks to my reviewers and readers.

R/R!

* * *

_**Chapter #25: **__**Fear**_

"_**I am the one hiding under your stairs …" –"This is Halloween", Re-mastered version by Marilyn Manson (2007).**_

_--_

_I am Henry the Eighth … Sole Sovereign of England._

_I am surrounded by beautiful women, by powerful allies and even in the midst of _those_ who try to destroy me … I still become more powerful, and even more filled with life as I have become Henry the Eighth at last. Sole Sovereign; but I already mentioned that didn't I? Or is it that I the most powerful King in Europe have become so lazy and to enamored with thy self to repeat thee important case at hand?_

_No, I think that is not it. I think that my destiny in this world is to change. –That is– I refer to change things for better and to make amends for the things my forefathers did before me. To strengthen the 'Tudor' legacy, if not in name; at least in Power and with the dignity that my father gave unto me this mission when he died, and left my mother alone to carry me –and give birth to me unto the world that was so unprepared for her and for me._

_We did remain alone for many years, and I did wish that it were still so. The woman although an angel in disguise, is also a humble she-devil in the ways of the 'true' Devil's works in my Kingdom. She has brought too much attention to my Court, and I hear she still sends cards to her nephew; that is my old _"brother in law"_ –when I was married to Isabella, my cousin and a liaison of the most incestuous (yet again a proof that the pope and Rome were corrupt) – to try and dispose of me, or dispose of my wife –Anne Boleyn._

_And then there is Mary, who is too much like my mother; trying day and night to defy me, see if she succeeds to succumb to her will my own and admit to all of the Courtiers that I was wrong. And despite her insolence –that never ceases to amaze me, how a girl her age could be so brave [or so __**foolish**__] to defy her liege and King, who has done nothing more than take care of a child, that mind you might not be his own! –, she still held a place of hatred, but both of love in my heart. Is it that confusing?_

_To love and hate at the same time, while one conscience's tells it's wrong and the heart, never ceasing to appease my sinful desire of imagination, tells me it is not. Can it be that logical but be illogical at the same time?_

_Am I crazy or just entrapped by my own desires? I don't know; but I wish to know however; how is it that I can stop my heart from ruling my head and desires. How can I stop it so I can live up to my father's legacy and carry on his name with pride, instead of shaming him like I have done so many times! And leave his death at a shallow sickness no more than in memory._

_He died for me knowing that his blood would never flow in mine, but he died nonetheless so I would be born and my mother bare me in safety, away from suspicion from the callous eyes of Henry the Seventh, and my surrogate great grandmother; Margaret Beaufort, who never ceased –until her last breath– to remind me of _**how **"important"_ I was to her House. –The House of Tudor._

_And to this day, even if I never knew him in person-in life, I intend to keep that promise and live up to him._

_Even if the roses touched on my path die … I will be a great King. _

_I will be Immortal –and _I_ will be Henry the Eighth, the greatest Sovereign._

* * *

**(**_**1535**_**)**

**Richmond Palace:**

**Anne Boleyn**, once a happy lady and the most _merry_ of Court; was now a woman of the most nervous and paranoid nature. Seeing enemies around every corner, not sure who to trust. Everything was haunting her! The walls, the corners and the silent birds that seemed to make no sound whenever they were near her, and then; she heard often –whenever she was gone, the birds like howlers would go mad and whisper amongst each other before they would sing _(an omen of death from the sparrows)_ and howl at her direction.

A certain bad luck specter that dangled around her shadow, ready to eat her good and merry luck by devouring first her daughter; the only thing good that was left of her _hollow_ Crown. _Nobody_ … nobody –believed she deserved to be Queen, not even her. Her Crown was hollow as long as Mary lived. The name was just spat with venom from her lips, remembering all the silent nights of punishment, of _humiliation_ –that her mother had made her pass in her childhood_. Isabella_ **was no angel**, and Anne was amongst the few that knew. Isabella, an Infanta and Princess on her Country of _Castile_; was famous for her beauty, her sharpness and her _intelligence._ But for Anne she was just famous for her cunningness –and her cruelty to other children; subjecting her and her brother –Charles– to horrors beyond their measures; only because they were not of her caliber. _[Because "they" were considered inferior next to her presence]_

_Isabella was no angel._

And she knew that, it was only a matter of time before _Isabella's daughter_ would take revenge upon Anne and her daughter [and the rest of her children] that with enough prayers Anne hoped to give to His Majesty, and cause the same harm unto _them_ as her mother had caused to her.

Anne knew Mary could not be trusted, it was best that the King forgot about her, about his little bastard. That was all Mary was, a bastard and not legitimate; –_'even if …'_ [Anne thought annoyed] _– 'Mary is his daughter; that does not mean she is before _**my**_ Elizabeth; my Elizabeth will always take precedence and Mary is nothing more than a pain to my back, and her sole existence is the mere presence of the plethora of lies. The veil of ignorance and for not submitting to me! … She would rather be dead and her flesh can only be satisfactory underneath the Earth, for she is a daughter and a woman and not fit to rule. But I carry a son and my Elizabeth is of Royal Blood much better than the blood of a Spaniard!'_

"My Lady … Anne!"

Nan Seville; a meek girl who despite her weakness show by her thing and bone like face; was one of Anne's most stern and strict _Ladies -in-waiting_. After Margaret had_ left_; Nan Seville –Anne's old and most trusted friend– had taken control of her ladies as _Chief__**Lady-In-Waiting**_, not to say more –she had kept all of Anne's ladies in check. Not tolerating a single outburst, making sure Her Majesty was always safe, she guaranteed the other's safety and good morals too for her Mistress' sake.

It was not that Nan had no fun of her own; she had but not if it jeopardized her Majesty. Above even _her_ own; her Majesty's safety was first. And like any good bred girl on England, well aware of the dangers and intrigue of Court, she made sure that all of the affairs –if there were ever such– amongst the Ladies would always be kept under closed doors. The Court was a dangerous place where any word could be interpreted –with a miscalculation if it ever got to the ears of the enemy– in the wrong way, or, to its allies –in a beneficial way, but either one was not exempt of sacrificing one side for the good and benefit of the other.

Nan had grown among them, and so she was trained and well versed in the politics of the Court. But she was not as smart, or, cunning like Anne; but she was cunning _enough_ to know _how to assist_ her Mistress, in any way she could –_'and for that'_, Nan often told herself – _'you have to be cruel.'_

The ways of the Court were not for anyone, and certainly not for the weak-hearted Moore girls. Who lacked what Nan did not; the pit of a strong stomachs to tolerate watching the depravities and insanities of others Ladies with men who would wooed them, and then soon afterwards, make gests of how their bodies still ran cold _("not satisfying" –they_ [the men] would say followed by drunken laughter from their fellow mates_) _on their beds.

"Nan. Do you remember the playing game of Cards set on my table?" Anne asked, her voice cold and steady, callous as a hawk waiting for the meek –cousin of hers to answer.

"No Your Majesty; all I remember was a cruel joke."

"But do you remember the _prophecy_?" –Anne insisted.

"That a Queen of England would be burned? … People might not consider _moa_ a _Queen_ worthy of such honors … but I am still a Queen and because the King can easily do what he wants, to command whenever he wants, I can easily see myself in that card, with my head chopped off." _(Laughter)_

"Your Majesty!"

"Lighten up Anne, after all it is all a game of cards … all a game of cards. –And I think I can win a round around him, over him –and over them." Her voice was ringed by merrier laughter that she did not notice her cousin stares at her brief moments of insanity.

Anne was not a sane person these days, her days were marked and everybody knew. The King had changed when he imprisoned Thomas More –his once mentor and friend– in the Tower, and _–"not for the better"_ everybody said. His new attitude towards her and others had become increasingly violent, paranoid, and at times dead calming.

Anne –his wife– was another matter entirely; becoming paranoid too _[like him]_, crazed, and [often] she would throw more banquets to try and _forget_ that her husband was ever "_unloyal"_ to her. Everybody around them was caught in between their arguments whenever their fights would rage on in front of _everyone_. It was an embarrassment to everybody who wanted to keep –for the sake of England– a good image on their Monarchs. But trying was not enough, everytime somebody tried to do it [by impressing the Ambassadors of Foreign Countries] –Henry and Anne would just shove them off and embarrass each other by using one sharp tongue against another.

As one was unfaithful in _his_ duties as a husband, the other was unfaithful in _Her_ duties as a wife by directly defying him.

"Not even Isabella –they _**often said;**_ had _defied him so much_!" And everybody knew how Isabella was with others when it came to Henry's liaisons. They ran hot, they run cold before he met Anne Boleyn; but Isabella's callous Spanish eyes would never stop stalking him, demanding him –with the help of her Aunt and mother-in-law– that he stop his betrayal to her.

Henry would only regard her as a mad woman throwing more insults at her face –as he had done since **they** married,– and telling her to know her place, as a woman in His House and in his command to do as he pleased with her and _their__** daughter**_. Isabella would not budge at Henry. –Instead she would humiliate him; throwing tantrums and spitting at his drink, laughing madly while he paraded around with other ladies.

Anne was not as immoral as Isabella was in her mannerism, but she was louder; causing more havoc and uproar in Court by daring to do what no Queen had done before. Challenging him, and that was what Henry both despised and hated about her, yet his male ego having no one else but her to defy him; drew him closer to her, wanting to savor every moment of her flesh and her company, wanting to submit the wild beast while she ravaged in his pain and humiliation; and finally wanting to tame her while she caught him savagely on bed, being on top of His Majesty –the Holy King– while he took her [too savagely] on his arms.

It was the love-hatred relationship that every couple had to face in their marriage when they were married to a stranger, but with Henry who was married to a well-known woman that he Courted for four years, it was more than hatred and love; it was passion and … [above all] frustration. To have somebody else who was not as tamable, or loyal to his wishes as his _other_ wife and Mistresses; was both annoying and frustrating –yet exciting as Anne prolonged her wrath at the King's bedmates.

Who knew what excitement was over to await the couple of King and Queen; who, last they heard [although not new] were in a fight where the King's manhood was put on the test as Anne purposely joked about it in a jest while playing cards _with her opponent._

* * *

_**1535**_

**July 1st**

**Evening:**

**They** trooped back into the dome, their uniforms and equipment smudged in with the awful red liquid that sustained every living creature on this sphere, that they called 'Earth'. Aristotle had often said that the essence of the soul was never gone; that it was immortal and Christians believed that once the body ceased to exist, the soul was free from its prison –to go either [the priests often said in their sermons] to heaven, purgatory or hell.

But these new Christians [More thought] did not believe in the soul, they saw the soul as part of the body, not as a separate entity like the Catholic Church's theology affirmed in its own [_man-made_] Scriptures. Which were brought up by men dedicated and loyal to their Church and whose words were pure words, spoken through them –directly from their souls by God, the only self-made Creator of all living things including _His_ greatest; humanity.

'_And women …'_ –he reminded himself as he turned to his window. Where outside he saw many men, henchmen –no doubt; preparing the rest of the arsenal that would be used for his execution.

--

**More Household: Chelsea**

**Late Afternoon**

_Alice_ was seated patiently on her seat, reminding herself that on the day of the Child's planned Christening; they were other plans waiting on her brother's table for _his _execution.

The tot's father's execution was inevitable and now Alice did not deal with it, she learned to accept it as her husband had urged her before. There was nothing _she_ or_ anyone_ could have done to stop _it_ from _happening_. It was of inevitable fact that Thomas More was going to die, and Alice –facing for the first time the realization she would be a widow, _again_ – turned her attention to her debts and finance problem that her _dead_ husband had left behind.

Many of_ them_ were left unpaid and unsettled, and she had to find a way in where she could pay all of her debts.

Alice saw as she shuffled through her papers; that she had a beautiful stepdaughter, and a stepson whose wife had inherited a good fortune [but she was weak and lacked both spirit and will to administer it], plus she was on the verge of exhaustion as her latest miscarriage had left her with barely any will to carry any more children, and that was something that for a women these days; could only mean two things –divorce or death.

Alice chose to bet all the little money she had that was left unpaid; that Anne would soon hit the bucket and be shipped off –her soul– in the next boat ride to Heaven. And before John could grow a sufficient mind to know how to develop those states; **she** had to intervene and choose a suitable bride for the boy.

After all [she thought] there were so many brides out there that despite his meekness and weakness did not see him all too much as a loss. His grin and physique reminded a lot of young widows [unhappy of their past marriages to old men and with no children, who had inherited –like John soon would; large and vast lands of their own] of his old father –the soon-to-be-martyr for His faith, Sir Thomas More. It was a strong bet that she could get John into the market of marriage as she and those other women had been in the market of marriage not so long ago before they reached their teens, and had the age to decide for their own.

"_Yes, give John to a wealthy widow Alice; one preferably of his own choosing, let him think he is in control while _You_ are in control my dear … let John decide … choose.'_ –His old husband's voice rang through her ears as she looked to John, who just in time came to her room to look at his younger sister. She smiled, wide grin spreading to her face as she looked happily –for the first time– at her stepson.

He would make her [and his father] –that guilty part of her conscience with Thomas' voice reminded her– very proud. "John" She whispered sweetly and John taken aback from her stepmother's usual gruff voice turned back awkwardly as she pulled him into a hug. But he guessed that it was because of the shock that in a few hours, her husband would be no more and he –John More, the son of once the brave Thomas More– would be left without a father.

* * *

**(**_**1535**_**)**_**,**_** Richmond Palace.**

_**King's Royal Chambers:**_

_**Late at Nigh ….**_

_Henry_ was in his private Chambers. Praying at night to his silver Cross; unleashing all his anger at His Lord Christ while he was in denial over his mentor's impending death.

He began to pace nervously as he lashed his anger at the Cross, wondering why was it that God had laid so big a responsibility on his shoulders to carry, while the rest of other Monarchs were left to deal peacefully in their Countries because they had the Pope's support. He was left as the forgotten and orphan child, with no support and backup from other powerful Princes of Europe to deal with his Holy matters. He was left on his own. The Royal House of Tudor depended on him, yet there was one more thing to do to show the people just how serious and devoted his King was to treat every one of his subjects of equals, and that left no exception to _everyone_.

"It pains me … _It_ _Haunts me_" [He whispered quietly into the night] "That He knows just how afflict His fight with his conscience causes me, and to the rest of my Kingdom …."

"If only I could let him go I would, I dedicate all my love to him for he is the only man, soul and spirit on this Kingdom that can hold and bound my own. It can make me flinch and send me to Hell if I touch him … yet I must if I want to be made a just King …"

He went on as the steel-silvery-hollow eyes of the Christ in front of him (a past gift from his mentor) said nothing but to mock him in a serious manner, while Henry's questions once again were left unanswered by his Hollow God. "All, everybody blames me, even my wife who she said _**"I would rather have Sir Thomas More dead than myself …"**_ and yet people who love and hate her, rather see me as the tyrant … I am no tyrant I am merely being just **If He lives and does not sign than what kind of King or just am I if I only show favor to one subject -but already killed others! What kind of King am I suppose to be?**

"**Tell me God what kind of King am I suppose to become! Am I to become IMMORTAL! **

"**Will I ever have a son!**"

He broke into tears as he saw the image of his mentor pass by as he stared into the hollow of his _savior_. _"I love him!_ But I hate him! He is truth that denies … I love him

" … But I hate him!"

_I hate him … I hate you … I hate … [me]!"_ He tossed his mother's pendant aside. Bending over to the Cross he prayed, in the old prayers that the First Faith had taught him [that his mentor had taught him], he wished [for a second] that it would not be him making the decision, or standing on the window waiting for the scaffold to lift and then butcher his traitor friend, but he had no choice. He was King of England, the most difficult position that was left to take on Christendom. And true to the world that he was living; no one wanted to take it; no one wanted the responsibility on a Country torn on by religious and other domestic wars. It needed a firm hand to hold on a Country like that, and so far Henry had been the one to hold it.

But his tight leash was not to hold on, one man had nearly break it and on the eve where the sun would set on the horizon; Thomas More would already be dead and at last –he would be the last reminder of Henry's true parentage. And _that_ would be the last man [a traitor] standing that could proudly die, and go into the heavens above to show off his courage [or foolishness], to his fellow comrades.

For whatever reason –Henry thought– that he would have otherwise died, _he_ stood up.

From every corner of the world, all others were silently praying, regarding a moment of silence as they all waited for their clocks to hit 10 AM where the clocks would stop and life _[that was once united under the belief of one Church]_ would stop as well.

No one who had not known Thomas More could earnestly say that he was a man of sin, for he wasn't. He was just another soul fallen in love at the wrong place, at the wrong time and with the wrong woman. Who secretly, both had begotten _a son;_ who he himself had felt wronged by the treason, which his mentor [his secret father] and mother had caused behind his _well known father's _back.

"_A treason,_ mother, father and son whispered; … **by parentage**."

* * *

_A/N:_

_Hope you liked it guys, and next chapter will be titled my Immortal guess what it is about the ending is coming! Only three more chapters, I am sorry guys, hope you enjoyed it, the next installment will be coming soon or on January probably December as a bonus I will finish Snow White and update Pain To No End which is to finish soon too._

_And with a shock for both that will leave you having open wide for your mouths as you will not believe what happens, and with a shocking discover from all of the characters that will make you go into more serious questions as truths lead more to questions and lies are revealed and enemies too who were often friends their masks fade, and friends will be the allies returning from the first chapters as well as old enemies working against time to save those who once they fought against ... but you cannot guess who for it is all a surprise! enjoy!_


	28. Until Death Do us Part

_**A/N:**_

_Yes I know first off that this chapter is not for happy campers, so guys I am sorry but if you are looking for happy endings in these chapters, and from what I expect some of the main characters then go read another story, here there is no happy endings, or bunnies._

_It is not all tragedy, dark or sad. But it will be portrayed according to the conflicting emotions of each character which I will tell you getting into their head is thought as hell I made it but it leaves a mark as you realize, Oh my God what were they thinking and makes you see that none of them were evil, victims, and they knew what they were doing yet at the same time they did not for ignoring the danger signs. And they were all just trying to get by with their own ambitions, whether it was to be Queen, King, Crown, Titles or the title to be with God in Thomas' case._

_Once again thanks to all of my faithful reviews._

_Enjoy the chapter!_

_Remember: Read/Review!_

* * *

_**Chapter#26: '**_**Until Death do us Part'**

"_Crawling in my skin, these words … fear is how I fall_

_The music, confusing what is real"_ –_Linkin Park; _**Crawling**: _Reanimation Album _(2000)

--

Alice was dreaming of herself being in another land, another time –in another place. A strange woman, very beautiful with long curls that were like cascades falling through the soft reef of gold that decorated her dress, reached her from the scalp to the bottom of her waist. In her hand she was holding a small bundle; she bend over to look what _she_ was holding, and inside, there was nothing more than an empty void of blackness that started to dissolve as the tear stricken face of the girl turned towards another woman.

A different woman this time, one like Alice who wore a conservative gown; of red and white that walked towards the young girl and slapped her hard, causing the small bundle to fall. Alice screamed but it was too late, and on the floor all that remained was a dead skull that turned to dust as Alice hand's started too as well.

She screamed for help at the sight of her husband, but he merely shook his head in shame, and dug his arm at his lover's waist. _Katherine's_ …

She embraced him and touched his lips, while she hungrily launched her body at him; he took her by wrapping his legs around her, and Alice was forced to watch as they consummated their love and passion once again, since nearly three decades.

No –she whispered but her face was already turning to dust, and her vision becoming blurry, the last thing she saw was Anne Boleyn, and Henry, staring directly at her, laughing at her. While Thomas, her husband; was looking with pity [in his eyes] at her.

"Thomas!" She screamed but her voice [as well as theirs] faded out into the blackness of night. As the light took over her body, Alice was brought back to the reality where she found herself and her stepdaughter, sound asleep; not woken up by her screams of distress and sorrow.

'_Damn her!'_ –She thought painfully. Looking once again to that child's direction, was like looking into Katherine's. And how Alice caused herself more pain as she remembered Katherine and her husband, sitting alone on bed on the More, kissing each other before their bodies rebuffed against one another, throwing the covers over them before they danced into the rhythms of their passions.

"You will not destroy me" Hours later, alone and still not able to sleep, Alice More told herself that all of this was just a game. Just a game –she told herself. And a game where one of the women was soon to die and she could tell herself [comfortably], that she would not be the one pull herself of that game of cards, that Katherine had laid on her husband's table that easily. She was a winner, a fighter and ultimately –_a true and legitimate wife._

Unlike Isabella –now she told herself, she was not stupid and impatient; she was patient and silent against the tide her enemies threw at her. She had been through _so much_. –And seen _so much_. '_One more death'_ –she thought to herself, she could easily dodge their gun powder and their plots, and everything more they would throw at her.

"Let them come, I can hold them up one more time"

* * *

_**July 5th. **_**1535**

**Tower of London: Thomas Moore's Cell.**

_**Minutes before the Dawn:**_

This comfort in my sleeve has pulled itself upon me. Against my will I stand against my own reflection, and its haunting how I cannot find myself again in that reflection. In that mirror past that I always dream; I find Katherine and I find Meg More, begging for my help, kneeling behind their father-husband respectively to spare them from the pain, which awaits them in the future. And against my own heart, I stand up and tell them to go back, never to return to the past, and that what I have done they will have to endure for the sake of the Kingdom –and after that they leave, and _I am alone_. –_Utterly alone._

Fear is how I fall when I wake up from my cold stone bed on my cell. And it is how I feel, whenever I see myself making the same mistakes again with Katherine and Alice; I wish I didn't but it is impossible not to make them, for making them has made me realize of my own sins, and how much different and pointless life would have been _if_ **I** would have not made them.

"_God, if you are listening, please tell my wife Joanne, that I am sorry; and that she was right in the end. I was the cause for her death … amen."_

_[Last Prayer]_

Thomas More made sure that his family would not be left in penury, but the years of his children's spouses fortunes could only do so much. In reality, he had to pray God over many nights not to leave his family on the streets where many dangers, even more horrible and wailing than those in the tower, lay by.

"In the name of the Father …" –He whispered in Latin as he began to chant his last prayer, before he would go tomorrow to a certain death, where he would rise higher than ever before into the skies to his new home, _'or below …' _His mind whispered.

* * *

**July 6th, 1535**

* * *

**Kimbolton Castle: The More,**

Katherine was slowly eating her meals. Today would be the day where her husband would be put to rest on his grave, on the scaffold. And while this was supposed to upset Katherine; part of her told her that this is what something her husband needed to do, something that even Henry –their son– would not understand, nor his other family, but in his mind he would triumph over the years and _**People**_ would understand why he needed to do this.

Why they sacrificed themselves, against all odds and defeated a tyrant to bring a son to England to stop all the civil wars and disputes over the other English Royal Families that should they have continued, they would have ravaged the Country into a non stop constant warfare to see who gets the Crown. In years England would have ceased to exist, and condemned to be ruled by foreign powers and become a colony where all the beautiful tales of English folklore would cease to exist, and the people forced to learn other languages not their own.

'_Another Norman invasion… French Invasion _she reminded herself_; only this time it would be my nephew …'_

In alms Katherine would have wished if she was discarded, to see this happen and to punish England for discarding a loyal wife to marry another who cared only for the Crown and showed no empathy for other living creatures, save herself and her daughter who had taken Mary's place as heir Presumptive to the Crown, at least while there was still a Tudor Prince absent in the nursery.

The other Katherine would have fought; she would have won against disease and come down stronger with new vindication for herself and her enemies. She would have not been defeated easily like Isabella, in fact in that other universe that Katherine dreamed; Katherine of Aragon, Queen of England, would have been a loyal, charismatic and above all Sovereign loved of her adopted Country, no one whatsoever doubting that she was loyal or humble in her chastity that she would never lie about laying in bed with other man that was not her husband.

But those days were a dream, and like every dream in the morning they were gone and replaced by the new world she had to live in now. She knew that somehow Thomas and her would not see eternity, or hear the Lord's choir in salvation on their separate death-beds.

Their son, and probably the only product of sin they had bore minus Alice, had made sure of that.

* * *

**July 6th.**

**_2 seconds before the Dawn:_**

_

* * *

_

At a certain point in the sky, it held the _hunter_ or the huntress, as Margaret's old mother used to tell her. "She" would never stop, and she would never hesitate to speak what was on her mind. She was powerful and brave and while Meg's mom spoke these words; Meg could not help but notice in the woman's voice some angst and regret each time she time she over exalted the image of the "huntress". Orion was the name of a certain constellation but her mother never mentioned that name; instead she called it: Orion-ess: the Lioness of the Moon and the Protector of Wronged and strong women. But her mother to tell the truth was anything but strong or brave, and Meg had to recognize that while her mother only once, did she stand up against her father minutes before her death, all her life she had been as meek and weak as Margaret was not at the moment when she stood in front of her husband, who was red mad about her latest miscarriage.

It was only natural that her mother would want to create a strange character when she felt the need to imagine something strong, brave and beautiful when she herself felt she wasn't.

_At some point_ –her father had once mentioned he was an idealist and a lover of arts and new wisdom, but her father's recent actions had proven the contrary by burning four innocent men on the stake, and arresting many just because of their beliefs.

_Who was her father?_

Only time would tell. A lover, fighter and a reformist for the Church, a novelist, or simply a common man who fought and lived for the family and for the God he believed in. Only time would tell again of Thomas Moore's great story, what was left now was to pray for this damned man's soul and to hope that it wouldn't be too late –for the King's conscience to ail him into granting his _surrogate father_ the pardon he needed to avoid death.

God knew _they_ had little time ... the sun was approaching and nearing its rays to his father's cell. The time had come for all holy men to pay for the retributions of other's sins. Like Jesus He would go on the stake, to pay for the mistakes of others, and he would guard no remorse or pity for them. Giving himself truly to God -Thomas had said to his favorite child that until that day she should never rue those who acted against Him, for they would get what was coming to them in due time.

_"Their time would come ... and they will be judge not by the Commons or a Jury of their Peers, but by the highest Court of all; Heaven." _-She told herself as she spoke her father's last words to her. She shall not bend or cry. She will remain strong and watch her father proudly, rising above the skies, higher than any man, or woman, on this Kingdom was ever to rise.

Her father was a Saint, and today he would prove to the world just how much one like him could change the future ... _**forever.**_

* * *

**July 6th.**

**Dawn...**

* * *

Kimbolton Castle (The More)

"_**When we are married; I will deliver you a son …"**_** No **_truer_ words had ever been spoken. -A woman with hairs of the night sky, and eyes as mischievous [and devious] that with them, _she_ could trap any man's soul if she so desired, had spoken these words not too long ago, and for the sake of England, she had succeeded in capturing its heir and under her web make him believe she bore **him** his son, a legitimate and natural son, heir to the English throne after its (_then_) present King _Henry Tudor_.

While other Princesses in Christendom sought to marry the English heir to the Throne to make England an ally against their neighboring enemies, Katherine sought a different approach than ambition; _love_. To ensnare a weak and feeble boy one needed not to show him ambition and dominance over his meek will, _she_ or he needed to show him the tenderness of a lover's touch, one that was not too soft, too close or too cold. It needed not to be hot, warm and feverish was the right combination to get through, to a man's cold heart.

Love was needed, foolish superstitions of knights and damsels in distress in England always worked to ensnare women into man's hooks, but Katherine saw that to her experience it was always the other way around. Men were foolish enough to think they ensnared women, where [in reality] it was women who let themselves be ensnared, and then the men not fully aware made their members become larger as their pride at the power they had over their prize and possessions.

But Katherine knew better, she had seen what power women had and how oblivious they were to not know _'how'_ to use _**it**_. Most of the women wanted adventure and fairy-tale love (especially in England) as well as the men, but, they were too blind in that picturesque reality to notice the power they had over their knights and spouses.

Women and men alike were too foolish and brave to hold themselves off from passion, they always thought with their hearts and their inner pleasures rather than with their head, reason. Reason was something Katherine used often; it helped maintain a key balance of what was important in life, and with God, her spirit was kept safe and clean of all the impurities that had ran deep in her past-life.

Impurities that Katherine had still not let go when she dreamed at night, her nightmares always disturbing her sleep –when she saw her old 'acquaintance' Thomas More walking blindfolded to the wooden platform where he spoke his last words to his jailer before being severely punished by the man he had served **all**_ his life_; the King –his own son. At that moment –Katherine would wake up, and the words that he had said before falling unconscious, always rang deeply on the back of her head "_for everything we do … lasts an Eternity!"_

--

**_Minutes after ..._**

_They came for me_ at the still hour before my _execution_. All the halls were silent and just as I was about to crawl to the cart, Master Kingston on the other side of the rode stopped me, and abruptly muttered in a low voice a pardon and in God's grace that I was. I muttered nothing back only stared momentarily, before being dragged in shame like an animal, to a cart of decaying wood were the insects were crawling near the ridges of my shirt, preparing themselves to eat my soon-to-be decayed flesh.

They were smart –somehow they knew that my head would be the only part sparing from their meal, as they moved through all of my upper body; _minus my head._

So many faces I saw as they came past me, the cart was dragged down through a rocky road and as the hood of hypocrisy came down from all of the Courtiers present; I saw the face of innocence, the face of a young boy who once ruled over them with just and a fair hand, but that boy was already dead –killed by the manhood of his pride and his lust for Power and Wives. His wish to have a son is not to strengthen the Tudor Dynasty as so many thought; it was to strengthen his own position, as legitimate son and heir to Prince Arthur Tudor of Wales, and grandson of King Henry VII whose face I now see reflected in my own son as he looks to me from afar on his top window.

If you only knew Henry –I whisper to myself quietly as to the other Courtiers not to hear. Despite all that _He_ has done to me, I will never reveal his true heritage; I will never endanger his position. It is after all not his fault, God made him King; of that I am now sure and Katherine was right … he is a true _'legitimate'_ King of his people. His only mistake in life has been to have the bad blood of Royal and of a simpleton like me, and for that I am to pay. But all he has done show nothing more than what other Kings would have done in _His_ position.

He is enforcing the law, and Parliament –he let them vote on themselves, he never intervened. Of that I am glad for that would show weak and meek will to obey and serve the law, even if that law requires us to sacrifice something we most cherished dear. It is that which we sacrifice [I often told myself] that makes us strong and firm leaders to our people. And I doubt other Kings or Queens in Christendom would be able to do what Henry was doing now.

To shred the blood of his own father, mentor, brother and spiritual leader require firm hands and frivolous heart when signing the act of Execution.

He has left me for the mantle of Luther and his new Council of Heretics, and for that I keep no resentment towards my son. It is after all not _His_ fault but his counselors –and all those who possess the Devil's touch; so seductive, and so attractive to Henry's desires for a son and legitimacy, that it was easy for _them_ [Cromwell and others] to lure my son into their sinister plots against His True Religion.

When I am lifted up from the cart and arrive to wooden stairs, I am so weak –even after years have passed already since my last whipping and I slip at the first step; Master Kingston, there once more to _assist_ me, whispers with a mock bow "Sir Thomas" and I answer him nobly curtsying "Worry not Master Kingston, for you will see me rise up …" and I trail off to dictate him what in my mind I think and _know_ will be real after my death.

I whisper another gratitude, surprisingly to Locksley; who was close to my trial two days before my guilty verdict. I admit, with laughter, I would never have thought he would be here, especially after all the friction that has been after him, me and my daughter's last visit. But he is and that is more than I can say for him. Yet in his stay here, I see Meg, for had she not been pregnant, than it would be she standing here and not him. But the Duke desires so much a male heir [like my son and King; His Majesty] that he would never risk Meg's health by coming here, and more now than ever when he and his Household were sure she was carrying the next Duke of Locksley.

Poor Mara –I thought, she would have a brother and no longer be her father's favorite and as guilty as it was to think of me that my youngest granddaughter was better off as a lonely child than a sibling, I wished deeply that Mara would be favored by God and secretly hoped that Meg's child would be nothing more than another girl. A man in a father's heart is always trouble, it supplants his little girl for another love, the love of heritage and Inheritance, someone he focuses on to pass on his name and titles, while the daughters that his old heart used to held dear are passed on from man [from younger to older] to man until she could no longer be of use.

Suddenly the coarse wind that blew so close to everybody's faces, found its way only to mine, and I could feel fate's drum beginning to play a song of tragedy for my last walk on the land of the living. Yet, to my wonder I was not afraid. I had been hoping for this moment my entire life and I knew that it was now or never that I would know how deserving I was of God.

I waited silently for the final blow that would end my misery, and my life; but it never came, instead I heard crying and screaming and when I turned to look back it was all black.

_I_ had faded -into oblivion.

* * *

_A/N:_

_I know evil cliffy. But guys next chapter will offer more intensity and yes a lot of hate mails, like I said prepare yourself for more up ahead and there will be surprises, this cliffhanger is only one of many yet to come also in the sequel which will be up next year._

_Pain to no end will also have thought not as much, chapter 30 of that story will be up in a few hours._

_Hope you enjoyed and if anybody has any questions or doubts just email me or ask me through a direct PM from fanfiction._


	29. Waiting for You: Absolution: Part I

_**A/N:**_

_As you know internet shortage but now I am back and had to rewrite all the chapters because of a virus that also erased the files when I went to insert the saved chapters of my cd into other computers. My USB device has the remade chapters I wrote once again saved, but I hope that now that my comptuer has been debuged and cleaned with a new safety anti virus scan, things will be better._

_I have also modified Chapter 25 and edited others so I corrected some mistakes._

_So after more than one month, here it is._

_Enjoy, next chapter the piece of 9 crimes from Damien Rice will be included as well as Archbishop Cranmer, and the person we love to hate, yes I know; Elizabeth More-Daunce. Take into account that she will take somewhat hard her father's death too and her son's future is uncertain. It all depends on Anne._

_**

* * *

**_

**_Chapter #27:_ "_Waiting for you: Absolution: Part I_"**

"_On July 16, 1945, in the mountains outside of Los Alamos, New Mexico, the world's first atomic bomb exploded. The white light pierced the sky with such intensity that a blind girl claimed to see the flash from a hundred miles away. After witnessing the explosion, J. Robert Oppenheimer quoted a fragment of the Bhagavad-Gita, declaring, "Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds." His colleague, Ken Bainbridge, put it another way when he leaned close to Oppenheimer and whispered; "Now we're all sons of bitches."... Now we are all sons of bitches." _–**Sarah Connor:** _**Monologue **_**(**_**Character**_**)**, _**Sarah Connor Chronicles**_ **(**_2008_**)**

--

**1535**

In his eyes Katherine would always be that feeble and naive girl that came from another land like an angel -who was a blessing in disguise to his misery. His father many times told him that _He _[the Lord] worked in mysterious ways; and although he knew not if this was true, he did know for certain that when he in turn, be delivered into the afterlife, [either] to see heaven or hell, no matter what, when or where –he would find _her_ [there] waiting for him.

It was his absolution, his _Eden_.

And as he turned briefly to see the ax coming down to his neck, he smiled. An insignificant smile added to his charisma that his presence gave away to his Jurors as he hung his head back to the floor where he soon hit.

"_**All around me are familiar faces … **_

_**Worn out faces …**_

"_Thomas … is this how I am supposed to hold this?"_

"_No Harry –I mean your Majesty" The voice quivered in fear at his mistake, yet the other voice annoyed by being called by His due title shrugged and turned to his mentor._

"_I told you not to call me Majesty! I am Harry."_

"_Sorry." He mumbled idiotically wanting to hit his head for making the young boy-King uncomfortable._

"_I do not like being called that … I just want to go home. What do you say Thomas? It is so bad here; I miss my playmates and no offense but … _his voice, now devoid of any anger or emotion. In that moment the boy that was Harry Tudor ceased to exist … and was replaced by something else.

… A monster.

* * *

(Modern Times)

"_Monologues of St. Claude V"_

The real Harry Tudor died on the eve of 1529 when he buried forever the memory of his father by wanting to appoint him Chancellor. On that eve there _I_ the "_eyes of destiny"_ witnessed the young figure of Tudor King no longer be Harry or Henry; but King Henry Tudor, the Destroyer of the Faith –once the Defender of it.

Of all the men who came and went there was only one man who sung along the lines of tragedy. And that was King Henry Tudor, the Eighth of England who lived and died on the eve of 1529, when his son [therein also and always] his father and Chancellor died too as well –for he pledged allegiance with the Devil, his son.

* * *

Katherine looked from her terrace as the wind blew the leaves of her old Oak Tree far away. It had been years since she had been _here_, and it had been as well since she dreamt of this moment, where she could find one of peace and solemnity. She had_ "found"_ Thomas More not too long ago on the arrival of her first [eternal] visit to the Country when back then –she believed every word he said when he pledged _they_ would be together, always.

Looking back at the picture of her wedding to Arthur, her ever faithful "Husband" and Prince she reminisced of happier times when they used to live together by this old Oak Tree. He had said that no matter how far she would go –in her betrayal- for the attainment of the Crown, his spirit would always be there, waiting for her; looking back at her every move from the Netherworld where she would surely go to other Spirits she had betrayed in Her past.

Death was her business, ever more suffering was her child whom she had bore out of lies and hatred; ambition for an old and weary Crown that she had attained through the Power of her son's hide on the throne and Margaret Beaufort's flawless fingers to pull strings on her True son and Heir.

Katherine never detained information from her son and when she said she was faithful to her promise and him; she was true to every word that got out of her lips. She had never said _when_ she stopped being, yet when it was –Isabella was dead and Henry was on his way to making her adopted Country, a Country of Sin and Lust by submitting subjects to do against their will supporting his monstrous mandates to take whom He desired and, **kill** whomever He pleases.

It was there that she realized that monsters although not raised and born, were made and not from the womb of the mother –but by the actions of her Past and her lovers. Two men –Katherine told herself-, one of whom she loved out of solemnity and need, and one of whom she desired out of the want of her Duties and the Crown Jewels.

Never more she told herself there was a woman more desirable in need and want to marry for her ambition and independence, yet her innocent and submitting features betrayed her true colors of deception and ruthlessness to submit other men to do her bidding in her flawless game of Politics –and through her influence when she imprinted them with their flesh's desires. She was a master of Politics, a True Queen's daughter. –_Not even_ [they said] Queen Isabella had been that deceitful when she backstabbed her half brother in dethroning the famous "Beltraneja" (a supposed illegitimate daughter whom Isabella of Castile till the day she died, had sworn that God had made her Queen to unite Spain with Fernando and rule Castile under her own will –even when was a woman! Under the true assertion; that the "Beltraneja" was the daughter of a Queen who was a whore and had only begotten a daughter of deception to give her husband an excuse to hold on the Throne and for her own benefit and her lovers) and putting her as his right and legitimate Heir as his own blood and next of kin. What Katherine had done to England had sealed the Country's fate forever.

Binding it under a contract stained with the blood of those few men left who had been True and Loyal to the 'Old' and Faithful ways of England in helping its people with the absolution of their souls.

Never before would people have remembered the Princess Dowager as the old and mistreated victim in a game of chess by a ruthless Queen and her misguided Husband who had fallen under her claws; instead, they would remember a Princess who came and took the people's confidence and under the lower status of her sex –took advantage and became powerful beyond measure- holding what no other women by God's old and new law should have held unto; Power over men and Politics.

On times her conscience which became as fickle like her son's, told her that she was no better than Perkin Warbeck who plotted against Henry the Seventh (a man she had no love; and further the more distaste for), and made himself go by at first as the bastard of Richard III _(another 'usurper')_, and then as Richard Duke of York. He was executed of course; but not before already rallying some men in his cause to supplant the King who won at Bosworth Field.

If what Katherine was doing was any better, only time would decide. Unlike Warbeck, Richard or others; she had done England a true favor by ending further disputes and even did Henry VII a favor, by strengthening the dynastic claim of his Family unto the Throne of the Land he had conquered.

Katherine had saved England, that is true; but at what price her conscience asked?

* * *

**(1513)**

**Cambridge:**

"_**Worn out places, **_

_**Worn out faces;**_

_**Bright and early for their daily races**_

"_Henry, _**here**_ is where learning was born. Where God has always been taught to us -through our heads Harry … through reason"-He continued … "Son" He added the last word very carefully, and with a low voice so the young twelve year old teen could not hear him._

_He wanted to touch the young boy and tell him all the wisdom that he knew; but to that would be treason. For the "son of a Prince" and King could not be touched by normal and simple hands. He was destined to rule, not to be pampered or pitied by the common man or "His" tutor._

_Because that was all Thomas More would be for the boy; a tutor and nothing else._

_It was a fairy tale comparison when 'his' _**son**_ made out his Kingdom to be like the famous mythological King Arthur of English Folklore. Such King were legends … but nonetheless; Henry made no effort to discard them as real and as an example as what England should be "again"._

_He intended to make of England a _Camelot._ And for that he was like his mother –Thomas More reflected as he watched his only legitimate son go into the libraries, exploring every book and ancient text for anything that would help him in his quest to become a great King for his People._

_--_

**(1526)**

_**Greenwich Palace,**_

_**King's Quarters:**_

"_Thomas, do you often think of the Future?"_

"_I do Henry."_

"_And?" -Henry persisted, wanting to get (For the first time) a concrete and plausible answer from his Mentor and "surrogate" father, Sir Thomas More._

"_I find my life to have no sense if I only keep thinking about that tricky word Your Majesty."_

"_**Going nowhere … **_

_**going nowhere"**_

_Henry replied nothing as he saw his Mentor leave quietly his Quarters. Thomas More when he was barged about a subject that would extricate him from his usual serenading state –he would avoid it and intelligently (but without offending anyone) leave before his true face would be shown amongst the other masqueraders._

_But now that Henry saw the door silently close, he realized that the greatest masquerader of all was not Him, Anne, his mother or Wolsey; it was Thomas._

_And God knew what dark secrets (or demons) this man held in his heart. Demons so dark he reasoned, that he must never let any man know them; for uncovering them, would mean the end of the belief that a man could live a life free of sin, and full of chastity only broken when He was in His wife's bed._

_--_

**(1532)**

**January 1****st****: Princess Elizabeth's First Birthday:**

In the second carriage, next to the First and the Guards trailing behind it lay the man that all England was talking about: Sir Thomas More. Finally to give out his face in the Public eye of London -where the rest of the mob was to receive its new Princess of Wales.

The Gates of the Palace that were filled with people of all classes and ages awaited the return of their King and _May _Queen. Not to mention was their excitement to see their Heir Presumptive to the Crown. A true _English_ born Princess born of two True Noble Englishman and woman who carried the promise of a Royal Heir [soon to be born] when _she _would be crowned Queen.

The first Queen to be crowned in her own right.

"_Not a failure"_ –many whispered amongst the Crowd [and Thomas heard them], like Matilda whose ascension as Empress of England proved not only to be a failure, but the most dire mistake in all English History.

_But surely_ –they all reasoned in their half logical minds, that Elizabeth of Wales would not be like all the other rebellious Princesses or Foreign Temptresses; on the contrary she was to be married and produce for her Country many offspring that would further strengthen the Dynastic claim of the yet young and weak Tudor name.

The Tudor was a young and still fairly weak dynasty, and although they needed a male heir to avoid, what was still in the mind of many old ones; another War of Roses –a female Heir if there was no more choice, to be married off to a true and noble English man would prove for the Country a true gain and end to their many problems.

But for Thomas it only proved just how far hypocrisy came among his own people. First, he considered. Henry was not a true English Noble or Royal. He was only half. Second –Katherine, the boy's mother was not as innocent and saintly as people made her out to be. Nobody knew her when she came to England, nobody gave her alms. They just saw a pretty girl with a body to make off heirs.

And heirs she did –he thought off mildly as people chanted on "Long live **Princess Elizabeth** and the** King Henry of the Tudors and Queen Anne**!" Heirs, that to this day were becoming the headaches and heartaches that constantly tormented him when he slept. His wife no longer shared his bed because of _them_.

Alice, turned from a good and patient, loving woman –to a woman of scorn and resentful feelings for the world her husband forced her to live on.

To live on humiliation, and forced to show on her love for Thomas on public [while her mind thought off differently] was humiliation of the worst kind.

It was disgusting and Thomas agreed with her judgment, but they were left with no other choice.

If they showed nothing more than scorn for each other; their lives at Court and for that matter, in the King's favor; could be all over.

"Long live …"

The Crowds merry laughter and cheers were now dying down as the Chariot reached the Palace, where Thomas More was offered help by the one of the King's guard. He stepped down with his belongings –a letter and a small present for his two year old Granddaughter.

He held the last very tightly to his chest as he went to greet his Majesties and finally, his granddaughter, who smiled in the sweetest manner to her Grandfather.

Margaret, who stayed close behind the Queen; knew that by this point her "sister in law" had already told the young Princess, about the blood relation she shared to the man she was to refer publicly as Chancellor. But in Private Anne had told her daughter, she was to call him grandfather or Grandsire, no more, no less.

"_**Their tears are filling up their glasses, **_

_**No expression ...**_

_**No Expression"**_

'_Appearances have to be kept …' -_Thomas thought as he smiled to the small child, who kissed his cheek in an affectionate manner when they were in private inside his son's Chambers, and only her parents, Aunt and him were present.

'…_No matter what.'_

_

* * *

_

**(1536)**

**Present**

_Kimbolton Castle:_

Katherine remembered when Thomas first received his second 'Royal' Granddaughter. He was all dressed up for the occasion –he had told her so in the letter he sent to her the day after the Ceremony of her Christening.

He had been so glad to be a part of the Princess' Christening and to be there to hold her in Private. But behind even more closed doors; Henry would never let his daughter be swayed away from the influences of Thomas More. That he vowed with all his heart.

He had loved his father once, when he not knew he was in fact his father. But all that had changed because of Anne's anger at Katherine's hurtful words … not too long ago.

Her rage was Katherine's ultimate destruction as Mary would soon be Anne's.

The once true Princess of England would never be let down by her grandmother.

All the others had ran away –out of fear of her son– from Mary's side, but not Katherine. She had stayed true to Mary's cause and for that she lived here –in the slums and alone with only God [sure she was] at her side.

**

* * *

**

(_**1501**_**)**

Katherine; feeble and naïve in appearance to the still young Queen Elizabeth of York, thought for the first time ahead of her husband and mother-in-law, to be all an act of a skillful actress.

She went not to confront Katherine –but to enlighten her in the ways she was to be, if she _still_ desired for the position of Queen Consort of England, ruling with alongside her only son, Arthur.

"Katherine" The Queen whispered as they were alone in the young Infanta's Bedchamber. She had wanted for some time to talk in private with the young Spanish Princess, not for etiquette or duties, but about what truly mattered in a Princess' heart: Obligation and Responsibility.

Two things that Elizabeth had bound herself to and left behind many things to obtain what was hers by right –the Crown of England. And it served her right to be alongside Henry -for he never cheated or squabbled with her (and she hardly ever spoke to cause him anger). A true wife, was the many whispers of people about Elizabeth of York, who never bothered to cause a revolt in her favor when Henry Tudor took the Throne of England and crowned himself King. It was in her own right that she should be crowned Queen and not Consort, yet, she preferred the placid nature of wife and child bearer (as was any duty of a Queen) than that of a ruler.

But that was not what Katherine hoped for, and Elizabeth could see that in the girl's eyes when she first saw her in her husband's banquet to announce the matrimony between her son –the Prince Arthur, and the Infanta Princess of Spain, Katherine of Aragon. But were they doing the right thing –Elizabeth often wondered; of placing this girl on Arthur's side when the boy was known to be meek and placid in nature like his mother?

That was not for a woman like Elizabeth of York to decide, rather for Margaret Beaufort. Elizabeth disliked that she had to admit a second place next to this woman in matters like these. But she had no choice. She was a wife, and Margaret was her mother-in-law and the King's mother. There was nothing to be done to replace a learned and powerful-influential woman like Margaret.

The woman had dominated Elizabeth's life after she had married Henry VII, and she made Queen Consort, forever settling down the dynastic claims between Yorkists and Lancasters.

**But at what cost?**

Katherine who saw the dark bags forming under Elizabeth's eyes chose to interrupt her abruptly from her thoughts as she called her in concern. "I am fine" Elizabeth declared to the young girl.

"What is thy bidding Your Majesty?" –Katherine declared, making a low bow once again to the Queen of England.

The Queen of England was shocked for she had never seen such devotion and respect in a subject before. All the true respect was for her husband –the King–, or his Mother –Countess Beauchamp. But this girl; had showed respect as if she was the King's equal.

"She is Isabella's daughter" She thought as she told the young Princess to rise and treat her like a friend, instead of a Royal.

Elizabeth hated to be treated above her true status of Royal and Heir. She rather would want to be treated as what she was, a mother of Kings and Queens; nothing more, nothing less.

"Yes My –I mean …"

"You may call me Elizabeth, Katherine … I can call you Katherine right?" Elizabeth offered kindly.

Katherine nodded and called her after her first name. "Elizabeth. Can I inquire the reason for your visit?" She asked.

Elizabeth smiled. She lifted her arm to touch Katherine's –in a gesture she rubbed it the way a mother does to her child. "I know that you are a Princess." Elizabeth started. "But you are a woman too, and like such you are to fall in love and give your heart to men. It would not surprise me for you are pretty and smart and some English men are always in love with new things … _**but**_… be careful at what you are playing Katherine; the King is a resourceful man and my son very much in love with you."

She withdrew her hand from Katherine -who was shocked enough and _scared,_ that the Queen of England might suspect something of her relationship with Thomas. But that was impossible –Katherine told herself. The Queen was nothing more than a kind, that was true, but, feeble -and very weak, naïve woman to spot anything ahead of the callous duo of mother son; the True Rulers of England.

This truly surprised Katherine. But no more than if did to Elizabeth, who seeing the girl's nervous stare confirmed her greatest suspicions. That the 'great' and 'Saintly-pure' Princess of Spain, soon to be of Wales –and maybe one day Queen of England– was unfaithful to her future Husband, her son!

Elizabeth was speechless, and she wanted to break down and wail down in tears to make this girl understand just how much _**they**_ had risked for her, for Katherine! To be married by proxy (and hopefully) by person with the Prince of Wales, Arthur Tudor.

Nothing would have strengthened more the claims of Henry and Elizabeth's Tudor and Plantagenet son. But now with this girl's broken vows –all of that was broken.

Elizabeth unknowingly in that moment had become the only hope for England and the true shaper for the years to come of her Country's policy. By one choice she was about to make, she was to change England … forever.

**Nothing **would ever be the same. Never.

"This is a dangerous part to choose my girl … you must abandon _him_ **now!** It matters not how I know of your liaison with this man More. His father would never accept your relationship with you, and neither would your mother."

"How –" Katherine started but was cut short by Elizabeth's hurtful revelation.

"It was I" Elizabeth admitted with tears slipping from her fragile eyes. "I sent that letter to your mother … and Dr. De Puebla sent one to Moore's father. We disguised it as both his and my husband's, but it was truly me that did the action Katherine. Blame me and not my husband. I am sorry to break your love but it is nothing more than duty … I am sorry that you had not a mother like mine and that I had not one like me. Life is too cruel Katherine, but it is the way Princesses and Queens must expect their lives to be."

Katherine shook her head and debunked Elizabeth's arguments by placing a hand on her belly, and now, it was the young Princess turn to make to the Queen (who had broken her dreams) a startling revelation. Yet one that Katherine would be sorry to make, for afterwards, she would see no hidden or surprised emotion on the Queen's face.

"My Queen." She forcefully repeated these words, careful not to spat the venom she felt towards this woman whom she once thought to be kind and placid, foreign from the affairs of Politics and State.

But once again, her mother's words of watching her back from those who pretended to be the kindest to you –proved to be right.

"I am deeply sorry that you hade to come all this way …" Katherine stopped, trying to breathe from the constrictions that were forming on her lungs. Too much revelations, –she told herself, in one day. But she needed to be strong, and prove to the feeble and naïve Queen, that she was the daughter of Isabella, and not be intimidated by nobody. "But I assure you **Elizabeth**; I am not to be kept from my birthright. But tell me something. Is it not true that when a person is told to follow her destiny, he or she is to follow it, but what if along the way; he or she, that is hypothetically speaking; that person realizes that her destiny is not as she was commanded. But God reveals to said person in the ways of a man, true to his word and love, –that her destiny lies in peace and with God in marrying the love of your soul. That is how I love Thomas."

"You married him then." Elizabeth patiently declared.

It was not a question. Katherine knew she knew the answer. So she nodded her head with pride, not shameful in confirming her other's suspicions.

"I did and I live happily carrying **His **child Elizabeth. And I know that you are to finally let your emotions run free, but with anger, at how I shamefully dishonored your House and made a mockery out of your Hospitality. You took me in and befriended me; the only one to show me kindness when no one did in this unfaithful and God-forsaken Country that your People call Home."

"Now you see me" Katherine continued, not backing down from any further revelation to the Young Queen. "I am Katherine of Aragon, Princess of Spain, and Infanta of my Country. I am not to be submitted my Queen. Elizabeth I am my own person! And it is not fair that I have to marry your son –who has been kind– but I do not love him! I love Thomas! … And now you see how I cannot marry your Heir, for I am with child and hath therefore betrayed the Heir of England. I only ask not to be burn alive with child. If I am to be punished, spare my child and do not make it known, if there still mercy in you –that Thomas More was my lover and husband. Please …" She pleaded, hoping to see some emotion on the placid Queen's face.

"For old times' sake. Please I ask truly" She finished pleading.

Elizabeth smiled passively at young Katherine. With a kind gesture she nodded and Katherine sighed heavily –feeling the worst falling behind. A good weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

But Elizabeth, finally using some of her old Plantagenet cunning ways to obtain the means to secure England, and the marriage contract –and union with Spain, meant differently in her agreement with Katherine.

She went to hug Princess Katherine, who hugged her "savior" with true intent, to show her gratitude and sincere sentiment of thank-you at helping her with her terrible predicament.

"You are to be married to Arthur my child. And tell the child is his." Elizabeth whispered in the young Princess, who soon was to be claimed as "untouched by any man" to her son, the Prince of Wales and son the King and Queen of England. It was how Henry had meant to be in the beginning, and one love affair was not ruin that, so, Elizabeth with new found strength intensified her ardent fight and kept embracing the Infanta, who she felt was close to tears. _She_ told herself she was doing the right thing.

Wasn't she?

After all, Princesses had to go through this ordeal to be married, and secure Dynasties for their families; and why shouldn't this be any different? She was certain she was doing the right thing, for herself, for her son, for England and for her Husband.

But why didn't she felt any better, why was it that she felt that she was playing God like Margaret Beaufort, the Countess Beauchamp often did?

Why did Elizabeth felt so guilty when she was only securing this young and bright girl's future with a good and noble husband of Royal Blood?

"_**Hide my head -I want to draw my sorrow … **_

_**No Tomorrow ...**_

_**No Tomorrow"**_

"No-o-o." Katherine sobbed, like a little girl. She clung to Elizabeth hopelessly, in some bright miracle that She [the young and Noble Queen she had met in her First Arrival] would understand her plight for love, and let her and Thomas be.

She was not about to give up. There had to be a way. No one else knew how hard it was for her to not have any friends in a foreign land.

To be alone and without nobody, to be treated with indifference while your future was becoming each day uncertain, only because the Country who you were promised as Future Queen –had a King who did not want to let go out of his pocket any more money that he had not put in the first place!

This was a plight that Katherine had to withstand every day.

Until, she met somebody who was walking in the woods, alone and without anything to give to a poor teenage girl, desperate for friendship and help. He gave to a young Royal something that no lady-in-waiting, servant, man or woman –or even family had ever given to Katherine; true and unreciprocated love.

And now, she was about to betray him.

For honor of a Code that she promised her parents she would to the very end.

"_The alliance of Spain and England"-Her parents had said_ when she left for England with all her ladies and chamberlains, all promised that if she succeeded, they were to have profitable marriages and a good life secured for them in their Mistress' new adopted Country.

Now she was about to betray them too -If she stayed with Thomas.

Her happiness depended on the choices she made, but so was her people's. Were they to suffer too because of her rebellious nature to her parents?

"All of England and the Christian World will be talking. The Papacy will be the laughing stock on your mother and father's conquered heathen lands. What will they say when a Princess of Spain chose a commoner and to defy her True God for the partial happiness of her heart's desire?

We are women dear; we do not hold the Destiny of our lives in our hands. If we did," –She stopped looking now eye to eye to her future successor. "then I would be Queen and not Consort but yet, Katherine, I am happy with what I am, and so now you must make a decision. Life is not fair, only remember that –no matter what you decide in the end my child."

Katherine was surprised at the Queen's last words. She had expected the Queen to be surprised and angry, but yet she was passive and calm and now she saw that the true strength in Henry the Seventh of England was not his mother, or his severity for punishment, but his passive natured wife who was the perfect equilibrium –and just what he needed in times of distress and calamity on his Kingdom.

"_Perhaps …"_ –she thought, "_that_ is _why Elizabeth makes a great Queen; because she is loved and respected by both her people and her Master, the King."_ Katherine saw in Elizabeth's eyes, same eyes that Arthur held on his face, honesty and purity. Maybe if the eyes of Arthur showed more than physical resemblance to Elizabeth; than life with him -would not be so terrible after all.

It was with strong decision and when one voids him or herself of emotion, that true leaders are formed. And in that single drop of fate –caused not by Henry the Seventh or his mother, Margaret Beaufort, the Countess as Katherine would have thought; Elizabeth of York had started the legend of Katherine of Aragon.

Started out as a Lady, Katherine had come to England as a lamb waiting for her pastor and Prince to rescue her, now the rescuer had become the Princess herself, and in her hands lay the fate of her adopted Country. Whatever choice she made would shape England forever, but in that moment –ambition born out of solace and duty, had made her realize that whatever fate England was to suffer, she wanted to be the architect behind it. A true Power behind the throne, and not just any spectator Katherine wanted to shape her own destiny, and the only way to do it was to be controlled and then be the one to control.

* * *

**Thomas More Speaks:**

"_**And I find it kind of funny; **__**I find it kind of sad …**_

_**That the dreams in which I'm dying **_

_**are the best I've ever had ...**_

Death was Peaceful, death was alright. I now realize that –in my years of living I had not known such peaceful way to die, than under the certainty that nothing was forever, no matter how hard you fought for_._

Only Death was certain, and crossing to either side; –that never failed.

I see my life separated by stages. When I first entered to study in the University from the time I was first invited at Court by my son, then when I went away to the Netherlands to search for something to inspire me to write. Utopia nine years ago –I was happy to see it, my wife by my side kissing my cheek.

"_Thomas, what have you done now that there are men … and women everywhere barging at your door asking for You?"_ Alice's laughter had followed her question thereafter; on my behalf only to show and respond to her moody behavior was my innocent-like face instead of myself mouthing a sorry. Like I should have –I had told myself that day, that I would have been happier [and] peaceful if I only had valor to confront the heat on my own kitchen.

But my mouth was afraid, and silence was ever my only companion in life –after Katherine.

"_**I find it hard to tell you,**_

_**I find it hard to take.**_

I had learned not to be afraid of silence, but to be afraid of words. For words were dangerous as ideas. I had seen men destroy and build lives with only one word. It was like a weapon, and my people had used it well enough for the better part of since when the Romans first came to conquer England, and wipe them out of the blue demons that had fought ardently to defend their Mother-Country. But the new settlers had invaded words, that had proved mightier than the sword and with their knowledge combined with strength and forcing others to their will, they conquered Celts, and other heathen towns.

Words had this power, to enslave Country and make men go in "reason" to what was logical and reasonable.

The sword enslaves the body, but not entirely the mind –words can do both. Enslaving body and mind, that is how far the extent of its power went. And whoever with Great Power and Responsibility knew this, in His or Her hands –said person could turn this in the benefit for many and to her/his self.

But irresponsibility caused not only failure, but fanaticism and lives under the guise of fighting for a true and just ideal. Such things were not worth fighting for, no matter what men said if they were learned or not.

I had seen much of men tare themselves apart by failure to be reciprocate, by insulting others rather than to resist their impulses, and finally –to exclude what they loved the most only because the temptation of beautiful sentences whispered in their ears promised them something that in the end … was unobtainable.

"_**When people run in circles **_

_**Its a very mad world, **_

_**mad world … world"**_

Henry, the King and I had fallen for the same woman and false promises of happiness and stability in our lives. Only difference, was, that Henry had a whole Kingdom at stake, I only had my head and body to loose.

Not a hard price for what had been done. But fair and only rational for getting yourself in sinful ways with the daughters of the then King and Queen of Spain which you made a mockery of the old saying 'Spain is as tough as a nun to break'.

I had proven, much to my shame, the contrary.

I take no part in saying that I am sorry, I can easily say with spoken lies coming from my mouth, seconds now before my last blow to my arteries, that I had no part in defiling Katherine from her honor –and that the fault was mine to take entirely, she was only a victim waiting for her Prince and cheated on by ravaging commoner who stripped her of her virginity with devilish lies.

That is not true.

And I know that if there is still one good mind in England; they will know that Katherine is and was too back then, a strong and careful woman to fall under any trap –by man or woman. She chose her destiny as I chose mine and we chose it to be intertwined –yet never joined, that last choice was made for us. But we hold no grudge, things happened the way they were supposed to.

"_He works in mysterious ways Harry …"_ A young man and idealist man, still very foolish and inexpert to the ways of the world, had told a young Harry Tudor.

He had responded that man, a young version of me old self with a foolish answer.

"_But how can he work mysteriously Thomas; I thought you said that God's way was a clear path of love, so to say it is a mystery than how can the men from Church say one thing but you and the Bible say another?"_ –The boy was smart; I will give him credit even now, as I see his face burying its eyes deep on mine.

"_Answer me that Master."_ He had said again to me, even when I still responded with the phrase of Socrates that I thought he would understand –of I only knew that I did not know, but he still asked me. Henry could not be calmed until four seconds after that Fisher appeared, still old but not as weary as he had been days ago when he had been in the same predicament as I was about to be now in few seconds more when the axe finished its swing to my neck.

_Time_ was short. Time killed many things, and one thing it did was youth. Finally I took notice that as my hands trembled, not with fear or gout, but with muscle tension; I realized that I was no longer the energetic youth that I once was when I first schooled the boy.

My muscles had decayed with age and stress passed on along the years that I had spent dealing with Henry. My body was no different, feeling the effects of old age plus nearly a year imprisoned in the tower with little food or water to suit the life that I was accustomed to.

But my life of pain was soon to end, my body would stop decaying and disgust any further my wife as only_ one second_ and I would finally feel the cold and hard iron-metal of the axe grazing the arteries of my neck.

"We all turn to dust …"

No matter how much Immortality we all want, in the end; immortality is nothing more than an illusion, like the treason I once committed when I went to lie before God that Joanne was my first wife, and that Katherine was a virgin sworn to God and untouched by no man.

* * *

**(1536)**

_**January 1****st****.**_

**Hatfield:**

A young five year old, often called "_gay_" for the wasy she behaved that was often quoted "not fitting for a Princess"; had spent most of her leisure time exploring the forests that were near her"Household". She hated to be adorned with such titles, despite people telling her it was how it was suppose to be in the "Household of a Princess of England".

Why couldn't they just let her behave like the other mid-servants' kids, and run wild with them to play?

Did they have to watch every move she made?

"_**Children waiting for the day they feel good**_

_**Happy Birthday **_

_**… **__**Happy birthday**_

Today would be her fourth Birthday

Her Fourth Birthday! And yet, it seemed to her mother and father that the only thing that mattered, was not a child entering another year in her _happy_ childhood; but a Princess that was safe and sound, and someday, maybe far away –or if by _disgrace_ something were to come to happen to avoid such fate– or sooner than she thought; bred for a husband in a far away land from the safety and bosom of her native Country of England.

Was that all she would ever be for England? A living bargain bred to wait to be chaperoned into the Church for stranger. _Whom,_ she had never before met in her life. And then marry like she was some cheap bargaining deal to secure land and fortunes.

Why couldn't she just be Elizabeth, just plain Elizabeth –daughter of the King Henry Tudor and the May Queen Anne Boleyn-Tudor? Was it to much to ask from her mother and father that they consider her more like a person, than a woman set out to secure their lives and fortunes?

Did God intend for her happiness, or was her destiny to big and great like the grand sky above her; being painted each day as the winds changed the course of the weather. Surely, hers was to be contrasted with that of her great parents and grandparents. Who, her grandparents in example; gave England all of their will, and dedicated each sacrifice for the one desperate hope that they might one day -catch a glimpse of their Camelot.

"_**When I feel the way that every child …**_

_**Should sit and listen, **_

_**sit and listen**_

Elizabeth thought of her mother, who was gentle and always sweet to her. But she often missed her _Aunt_, whom before she had to call in Public as "Lady Margaret Roper" –her Governess. She was a smart and very noble Governess to Elizabeth.

The young Princess always thought highly of her first Governess. She never yelled or used force against her; instead, she used and old method that her father used with her. Whenever Elizabeth would _'misbehave_' or, act un-Lady-like, Margaret would use the quiet treatment to ignore the young Princess' tantrums and complaints. It always worked.

After Elizabeth would be ignored for hours and sometimes days, she would apologize to her Governess and to her servants, and then nobly bowing she would promise never to misbehave or act superior to those who were below her status of Royal and Noble Blood.

Elizabeth never meant to harm those who were of 'Lower Status', but her father always mentioned that as Princess and Noble Blood, she was to make sure everybody knew of who they were to take in their care. A well bred Princess would never shame herself and plead for help and respect, she would _**earn it!**__ –But_, **also enforce it** _if_ it was a necessary case.

"Elizabeth!" A melodic voice called from behind her.

The young Princess turned to see who it was, but no formal introductions were necessary from Her Governess, as she well knew who the figure belonged to.

_Her mother_ –Anne Boleyn. "Mama" Elizabeth called with her mother's informal title. Between them in private, there was no Royal Treatment, or Formal titles.

There was only one world reserved to them in Private, and that was of Elizabeth calling Anne "Mama" and the Queen calling her child by her name as it should be –under normal circumstances.

As fool to the Queen, often Elizabeth felt that they were all pawns in a greater game that not God or Foreign Leaders had put them on to play in their chessboard. But a game initiated by her father.

And to all the massacres and rebellions, the greatest man to blame were not those who were imprisoned or beheaded, but the blame lay on the King –their Executioner and now Pope.

She loved her father –Anne knew this well, but seeing her daughter's eyes at the mention of him; she saw sometimes indifference and coldness. She loved Sir Thomas –her mind told her, and her father had killed the only piece of a past unblemished by Royalty or Nobility. A past Elizabeth wished to know more, but for some reason –to the mind of a four year old- it was not proper to tell her yet why Thomas More was executed.

"We are to see your father. Tell me, what bad have you been up to poppet?" Anne asked her only child.

Elizabeth made a straight face that in minutes broke in laughter as Anne's face became silly. Mother and daughter were known never to keep a straight face when they were in private. One always caused the other to laugh, whether it was Anne's first or Elizabeth's jests at Anne's enemies.

Her daughter always proved Anne wrong no matter what. She had the audacity of Katherine and her intellect, but her cunningness and ambition were solely Anne and Henry's. Of Elizabeth they expected a marriage and a promise to secure the claim that Anne was and had been the only legitimate wife –so far, of Henry the VIII, but their daughter, ever planning ahead of anybody else, thought differently.

"_**Went to school and I was very nervous**_

_**No one knew me … no one knew me**_

_**Hello Teacher … Tell me what's my lesson **_

_**Look right through me, look right through me."**_

For her there was only one way to live life. And that was by forging your own destiny and not letting others make it for you. If you wanted something good, you had to do it yourself, nothing less was to be expected of a Princess and a person to call claim themselves of independent.

If not, then what kind of men and women were being formed to depend on some Prince or Princess charming to be rescued and depend on? Such fantasies were not real, the world was cruel and you had to fight your way on it.

"When I am Queen; will I be Ruler of Ireland too?" Elizabeth inquired to her mother, who had finished splashing her daughter with the water from the small fountain that was given to the Princess as a gift from her father on her second Birthday, exactly two years ago.

Anne shook her head mischievously, like a game of cards that she was not willing to loose. "No." The Queen said simply. Elizabeth might be her daughter, but to make her strong she intended to win in her daughter's play, even if it were mere words or conversations –it the way her character would be strong and cold for the formative years ahead of the Princess, before she would be crowned the first female King.

"Why not?" -Elizabeth pressed on, not willing to let her mother get away with her games. Too much Elizabeth had to resist the urge to win over her mother –because she was her mother. But now it was her time to shine and show her mother she was to be the next Queen of England, and as such she was expected to outsmart everyone, no matter who they were and what position they held.

This was her Country, and no one else's. Even if it was for a future, she was not willing to wait. She needed to make it known that she would be the next Tudor King. And make a legend as the first Woman-King to rule and inherit the throne on her own right. Not by son, marriage or blood, but by her own merits and sweat that trickled from her forehead.

Best yet; minutes later that Elizabeth ran away from her mother's side, she found the place that Mary_** –**_her half-sister_**– had **_taken her when they were first left alone. It was here where the eldest Tudor sister told her youngest, that should there ever was a time to consider how to win an argument, this place which held_ magic_ –would help her win every conversation against any opponent. _"Worthy or not …"_ Were the whispers of her elder Sister.

Mary was right, at first she thought this notion to be silly and illogical, but being here, in this serene place and surrounded by nature; made her mind become clear and all her rambling thoughts would become one and after minutes she would know what she needed to do or say against her opponent.

"_You are a Princess" _Her father had said.

"_A King is bold. A King listens to his people. He is to march for God and serve in body and soul his Country. He is never to fear, never to tremble. A King is an icon, is the image chosen by God to manifest as a symbol of greatness, is the body that all men should defend with their very bodies, and work for with their sweats driven from their backs. A wise Monarch knows these things and not only applies them … he teaches them and lives by them everyday repeating the Sacred Oath to his Successors …_

_Long Live the King!"_ She heard the words being spoken many times, often by whispers carried by the wind, from the old wise men, long dead, and gone from the physical world that bound them to this Oath. Their bodies were no longer part of her world, but what they left behind, and the strength they gave to their people, kept ringing in her ears every time she came to this place for solitude.

She looked at her mother curiously, who had caught up to her with great speed. "Don't you think that maybe the Kings of the Past want me to become a Woman Ruler instead of a wife?"

"Nobody wants but what **you** want **Sweetheart**. You are our Pride and your father's love."

Again she seemed to cringe at the mention of her father.

'_She can never know what happened'_ –Anne, her mother thought as she went back to retrieve her daughter and walk her to her Quarters inside her Household where a long and hot bath would await them to get cleaned up.

"_**Nay."**_

"I think the choice was being made for me long ago. But I. Will. Become Queen Mama. I promise to thee." Elizabeth said and hurried after her mother, oblivious of her words and promise; walking on their way for her Household.

* * *

**(_1536_)**

**_On England ..._**

**Thomas Moore's** death and the prediction that a Queen of England would burn, was becoming every day in dozens of incidents. There were ballads, even in Public to the ears of the King and Queen of England, that His Majesty had married a wench, and set aside a good man to secure a Faith that was so far impoverishing the land and robbing the farmers from their profits.

Profits that many said that even though, the "Old Faith" was corrupt and dirty in their ways, they let many of those farmers do commerce, legal or not, with other towns and the profits of the Church were also used by farmer to buy local goods that helped them with their farms.

But all of that, not only for the farmers, was now becoming undone. And those who had lost everything had not received anything in return. Many who had blindly supported the new faith at least thought that in return, once this was over they would at least get something of the Monk's treasury –and their lands promised to them by the Queen herself who spoke so eloquently on their behalf in Public to the King.

All the promises made for them meant nothing next to the Queen whose own safety and position was now being put into question.

With each pressing day, ever since Thomas Moore's verdict, she had seen Henry Tudor change before her eyes. From being the usual paranoid and neurotic King that he always was, now he was quiet, pale, refused to eat, dine or even visit her at night where she would always light the candle to wait for the King who no longer took interest in the May Queen.

And on one Residence, alone from the squabbling and the problem of the world was the May Queen, waiting on the window to see if she could spot her husband, as if her eyes were that of a hawk, with vision that stretched beyond the city of London, and the rivers that surrounded the many places where her husband could hide with his many mistresses.

She had become paranoid and everyone at Court no longer held their tongues to divulge the so called "rumors" that the King was growing tired from Her Majesty's ongoing paranoia.

Yet, as long as Anne held his Heir in her belly, there was nothing he could do to stop her every whims and whishes. If she wanted somebody to pay for a slip of tongue she would in a heartbeat, for this time she was sure she held Her Majesty's male heir.

"_**And I find it kinda funny, I find it kinda sad**_

_**The dreams in which I am dying -are the best I've ever had**_

_**I find it hard to tell you,**_

_**I find it hard to take.**_

"_A boy!"_ She said to the Courtiers as she paraded many times, laughing and jesting bluntly about her enemies while she danced with the new tunes of her _favorite _musician, Mark Smeaton.  
The Boleyn family had risen in Power and Status. From being a simple family, they were now the most powerful and priviledged family on England.

Thomas Boleyn could not be any happier to have a daughter as Heir to his name. Sure he was a man and wanted a male heir to carry down his name, but what good was a man if no riches and Power he could use to elevate your status?  
Anne had proven him wrong many times from when she was child, small and plain and with no hopes of ever acheiving good fortune. But she had growned and in the eyes of her family, she had blossomed into a dark beauty that not only captivated the King's heart, but enslaved his mind and soul under her brilliance.

She was by far, the best thing that ever happened to the fortunes of the Thomas Boleyn and his Family.  
Anne, his daughter; was the only child he was proud now to say was his. The other two had proven so far to be nothing more than nuissances he was tired to deal with.

* * *

"_**When people run in circles, **_

_**its a very mad, mad world … world"**_

It was truly a mad world that they were living as the Courtiers turned their attention to their Queen. A Queen they had all helped rise to Power and a King they once cheered for merrily on the streets of London from the time when he was first crowned, with his mother and Mentor Sir Thomas More trailing at his side.

What times had those been, but such times were over and nothing more than old stains on a new world no more troubled by past … or honor.

"_**Mad World,**_

**_Enlarging your world ..._**

This was a world for new men … and women. For people brought on with new notions of God and State. And the world that was being forged held no longer any place for men and women like Sir Thomas More, Bishop Fisher, or old 'Princess Katherine' and Lady Mary.

They were old relics; they belonged in the old dusty bookshelves. Their world, and country, was gone, replaced by the new men and politics that had ravaged the new learning in Europe.

"_**Mad world"**_

The clock had been ticking, no chance of stopping it now what was soon to happen.  
But for _them,_ their time was up.

And, _they_ no longer had any part on this world.

* * *

**_A/N:_ **_The Song I chose "Mad World" was so you could see a glimpse of the lives affected by Henry's father's death. Obviously we have a Country in turmoil and I warn you that the clock is now ticking, two more chapter and the final ending of family's ambition nears with the death of the one whose sacrifice will set the path for young Royal to become the Great and Grand Architect of the England we all know today. But you see here Elizabeth, a young Princess understand that to be a Ruler you need to be fair, but she does not yet learn that through suffering and reason, and mantaining sanity you are able to forge character to help you go ahead._

_Long chapter I know but it shows the aftershocks and what is more consequences to come in the future for Henry's actions. Choices that will afect especially his two daughters, Mary and Princess Elizabeth._

_I will put more of the other characters in next chapter and yes one you will probably not like, but that will be important for the development of the fates that are already in motion for our favorite icons.  
And the big surprise here I think is Elizabeth, whom Katherine now that she no longer has Thomas, remembers that the guise of passive Queen was broken the day when the adopted grandmother of henry decided to secure for katherine and her child a life of priviledge along with the honor of the promise of marriage to her son. One of the reasons to show the importance of this scene was that I did not put as past tense, but more as a pivotal scene that shaped the entire story. Deux Ex Machina, in the time of need Elizabeth came and made out this whole situation.  
To honor the contract or not things would have been with dire consequences, especially on a time when a male heir was of more need to the Tudor Dynasty._

_I admire Elizabeth as you see. But I also admire other characters and having to put yourself into the mind when they are facing solace is harder when you have OC's also to take into account. And what role are they playing even if they are not present in the chapter you already made thm part of the story so I did put hints here as toe their actions and meddling with the faters of our favorites historical figures._


	30. Absolution: Part II

_**A/N:**_

_Yes the climax is almost near. And you will see why I put the song 9 crimes from Damien Rice and that is because in a way some people might think that it was them committing the crime, even the King. It is conflicting to what they feel but I hope you can understand whey they are conflicted and what actions inflicted on them makes them act like this._

_Special thanks to all my reviewers and please visit the TudorsFanFic Forum and I recommend new stories like King Arthur II, Henry's Rose and Sister to the Queen._

_Thanks to ReganX, LadyJax999, AestheticNarcissist, Kahuna-Sama, Lemondropseverus, Ladyredvelvet, BoleynGirl13, BoleynofAragon21 and devilshemaycrie who your reviews keep me up going, and to all my reviewers and readers in general. We are one chapter ahead. One to go, one that sets answers finally to rest and a finale that will leave you loving and hating our favorite characters and history icons._

_Here we go!_

_R/Review._

* * *

_**Chapter #28: **_**"Absolution: Part II"**

**(Death of a Princess)**

"_Judas hang himself with his own rope …" __**–**_**Lionel Luther**; _**Smallville **_**(2004)**

**--**

**1536**

**January 29****th****.**

**Whitehall Palace.**

Henry sat alone. Well, he was not alone. He was with his _first_ wife, Anne Boleyn –who quietly ate her dinner at the other end of the table. She moved her swift body to sit next to her husband, who did not seem to notice she was even there to begin with.  
Anne wanted him to realize how important it was_ for them_ to show to the people that Elizabeth was their True legitimate and **First** Princess by arranging a marriage with King Francis' first son –the Dauphin.

Henry heard her words, and many suggestions that followed soon after –but he merely nodded and shrugged his shoulders, not really paying attention or caring for that matter, for what she had to say.  
It was all useless for him. Nothing she would do could ever bring back her husband from those painful memories of Sir Thomas Moore's death.  
He had carried his own demons to the grave, and for the first time Henry watched, with dignity, that his father despite all the humiliation –he said nothing of the sort of Henry's true parentage.

"_Leave me out with the waste;__this is not what I'd do ...  
__  
It's the wrong kind of place  
__  
To be thinking of you  
__  
It's the wrong time__ …"_

Anne knew very well what it felt to deal with guilt. But it was time Henry stopped living in the past and came back to his duties of King, and father to their Heir –the Princess Elizabeth. As long as there lacked a healthy male on the Tudor cradle to call "Prince"; they could do nothing more than to arrange marriages for Elizabeth, and the promise of a strong alliance for England.  
Yet Henry who was supposed to care about his Heirs and People, seemed to be of an absent mind when the proposal for his daughter's hand was discussed.

"_For somebody knew_

_It's a small crime … and I got no excuse."_

"_He still wants a male Heir."_ –Her mind screamed. "_You have to give it to His Majesty! Look what happened to Isabella; and she was Royal1"_

"_But my blood carries Royal Blood, blood that is more pure than of that wench Seymour my husband is infatuated with!"_ She answered back and all her troubles of her mind were quiet down.

"_And is that alright? yeah_

_Giv__e my gun away when it's loaded … Is that alright? yeah"  
_

She would not be displaced or set aside like some rag, like _they_ had intended -when they dragged Isabella to Trial. Luckily, it seemed to Anne that even Royals had luck in all situations for the wench never made it to Trial. She –like Wolsey, died before the Trial could commence.

"_If you don't shoot it how am I supposed to hold it  
_

_Is that alright? yeah__"_

Not surprisingly were the accusations that poison was used speed up the process for Isabella's sickness, and of course the true enemy of the old religion was to be blamed as the main perpetrator, for she had more to gain than anybody else.  
But Anne some time ago stopped listening to those rumors and instead focus on the Present and what needed to be done in the Kingdom, should anything happen to Henry and she be left as Regent to defend it from her enemies.

On the other side of the room where they quietly ate, was the Chancellor –Lord Audley waiting for an Audit with his Majesty to discuss what was to be done about the dissolution of the monasteries.  
For many months now he had begged Cromwell –holding more power than him (who was the Chancellor and should have not needed to ask for an Audit with his Majesty), to convince his Majesty to hold an Audit with him. Audley considered it of the utmost importance that they discussed the treasury, for many were now becoming upset that His Majesty was not fulfilling the initial promises of reward he had when he initiated his little "Reform" –along with his wife- on all the Country.

To tell the truth; Audley didn't care about the Reform or God -although he agreed more with the Reformers' idea of God and Church. But for him, the stability of the Country was more important than what few old and young squabbling men did behind the closed doors of the Church.  
It seemed that to them all that mattered was their God, more than their people whom they made a serious pact to protect and to serve more than a deity that so far had proven useless to the matters of handling the state affairs of England!

The sun was setting and for Audley it seemed that no Audit would be held for him. The King had no interest to talk to anybody other than his Private Council and his wife, who so far had done nothing more than be paranoid and forget about her people.

What had the world come up to? And what was England so guilty of that they were condemned with unfit and unjust rulers?

These were gestures not only shared by Audley, but by many who were deprived of their promises and angry to see what their Country had come to. They felt they no longer lived in a God-fearing country, but rather on a twisted version of Sodom or Gomorra.  
The cities that God destroyed because His children were deaf to his pleas, sinning in ways that the Angels were so repulsed that unless they told Abraham they found 10 honest men, they would cease the cities' destruction.

No good man or woman was found. All the good men and women that had previously fled before God's fury was unleashed, had been corrupted by sinners, and all that was left behind was Abraham's good cousin Lot that was commanded to run –along with his family for cover- while God destroyed Sodom and Gomorra, erasing all memories of sins committed in the past by his disobedient children.

The cries of many who wanted the old Religion and 'morale' of their ancestors back, echoed all around the old Churches. They had no place to go now that their homes were squashed down by the King and his soldiers. What could they do when their faith was banned, and their allegiance to the True Religion was considered treason?

You had nowhere to go and nobody would hear your cries for that was treason too. Allegiance could only be to one person and that was Henry. Occasionally he would let others voice their opinions and publicly let others speak up in their remorse against their Monarchs, but that was it. Other than that … to speak blasphemous against the Monarchy was considered treason and punishable only by death.

Henry was set out to make an example out of all of them. And Anne, who was trying to resolve her own problems, had no problem with him carrying on death-sentences; it was more the fact of who he was willing to sign for that was troublesome for the Queen.

She wanted nothing more than peace in England, but what peace was she willing to die for when innocents whose only crimes were to manifest their faiths publicly were being put to death.

Anne knew that these people in the past had caused harm to the Reformation, and many they considered Heretics they sent to the scaffold or to be consumed in flame for "purification". The now May-Queen was always appalled by this, but she could not deny that she and Henry were doing the same now in retaliation for their crimes against the Reform in the past. But it seemed that the more they enforced knowledge and True Religion, the more people fought back for their old ways.

"The old ways are over" –She had said not too long ago when she was first crowned Queen Consort of Henry to her Ladies and other servants of her Household. She had given everybody a bible written in their native language of English, and she had offered freedom that no other Queen previous to her had, to read the Scripts in their native tongues and confess only to God for any misdoing instead of offering silver and Gold –like they would on old times.

"_Give my gun away when it's loaded_

_Is that alright? Yeah_

_With you..."_

These were the times that Anne looked back and she did not question whether she did right or wrong. Because she knew deep in her heart that she made the right decision in taking an old and decadent religion from the English People, so in turn they could be educated in new ways of philosophy and science. She had many hopes for her Country, but she couldn't do it alone, she needed her husband's help to succeed.

"_Leave me out with the waste; t__his is not what I do …"_

But her husband seemed to no longer pay any attention to what was going on with his realm, or his marriage.  
He had spent his leisure time reading, withdrawn from the Company of his Court, alone in his bedroom with not even his most trusted servants to keep him company.  
_**I just want to be alone**_, was all he said when asked why. He never gave a plausible answer for his aches, but Dr. Linacre and others who had the boldness to speak; all said it was because of the death of his old mentor, Sir Thomas. It had to be, was what they all said. Nothing more could explain the gloominess in his bedchamber as to his subjects. Whom as of that fateful day of July 6th, he had shown weakness that left him uncovered from the old comforts that always kept him strong.

It was without a doubt that Henry had changed, and not for the better. His conscience was fickle, that was true, but with the death of an old friend it left him more vulnerable to unwanted influence that could turn the wheels of the Boleyn's fortunes against them.

"Will you come to my bed tonight?" Anne pressed on by changing the subject, to see if she could catch some of the King's attention. But nothing, only some flinching and eyes closed as he sighed down to look at his unfinished meal.  
"Henry …" Anne started but he stood up and knelt by her side. "You are so beautiful." He whispered to her ear, and then kissed her –leaving her alone once again to an unfinished meal and making her feel … unwanted. _"Just like Isabella …"_

--

**(**_**1536**_**)**

_**Wolf's Hall:**_

"Jane" Her father called, uncertain why Jane was doing such _terrible_ actions in their home. Bringing up the bastard sister of the King that Jane had felt was not being handled well in the care of her stepmother, Alice Moore –Sir Thomas Moore's widow who was still the jealous woman of her late husband's affections for the old Princess Dowager.

Taking action since Jane knew very well of _Sir John_ in the Court of her new Mistress; "May Queen" Anne Boleyn, she had offered that her house would be the perfect and safe environment for a child like Alice to grow.  
John had accepted without question, but her father the Seymour Patriarch saw this as foolishness from Jane's part. Yet again, Jane's good humor and treatment to her father of being the good girl, won her his permission to accept young Alice into their home and care. Jane could not be any happier for she had taken a liking to the girl.

It was not known to the most cunning of the Seymour clan, a very old and well-respected family who descended from the First three Edwards that had ruled England; that in their House they were given asylum to the King's bastard sister. Something that Edward, eldest child of Sir John, thought to be a bad move from his sister's part.

Edward, the successor of the Seymour Clan; needed Jane to keep hold of the King's affection while they lasted. If they were to last she needed nothing more than favor and he thought that to win that favor was to be on his good side. But how could she? He thought in anger, when she is very well inviting the sense of his shame and disgust to our home?  
He had no choice but to yield to his father's decision. He was after all the Patriarch of the Seymour Family.  
But not for long his mind kept telling him. Soon, when his father would have a close meeting with the afterlife, Edward Seymour would set his family's ambitions on the right path.

"Sister … (_laughter_) Why is that you bring _this bastard_ here?" He said, clear hints of sarcasm in his voice that Jane seemed not to mind or notice.

She was what most people called English Rose, but she had nothing of the good qualities that made those Roses –English. For one, she had the figure of Anne Boleyn when it came to her weight. A bad sign many men took as an omen she was not to bear children or not as many as they desired. Second was that she was blond, a common hair color to all the English women. And third, but not the least of what made Jane Seymour (compared to the rest) a "Plain Rose" was … that she had no skill, ambition, aptitudes or knowledge to set her above His Majesty's preference of women.

So far all women Henry had dated had knowledge, skills and were very educated. Jane was not the exemption to being educated, but she lacked skill and ambition as the other women that had crossed Henry's path –and his bedchamber.

Jane often thought as she watched her brother throw mean glances to the child that he cared too much for material things. Those things in Jane's mind –came and went, and they were not to last. After all –Heaven, on the other hand, always managed to last, whether on this material plane, or, on the ethereal.

"Edward." She carefully started, calming her ambitious and cold brother, with her sweet voice. "I know John when I went to serve Her Majesty the Queen. I met him and since he was always nice to me, and you know how father always said that his father had the greatest works in the Kingdom, I figured that I could form a friendship with him. He was nice, but sometimes I saw sadness, and knowing that to be a good Christian means to show compassion Edward –some thing that I dare say you should start … he told me about little Alice and how the Widow Moore is always neglectful and resentful of the poor child and only because she is a bastard.  
That is not fair Edward, and worse is that His Majesty for some reason does not let John take care of the poor child. And since I thought that our house is always big enough since our guest rooms are never used, then we might as well make use for them. She can stay and be with us as much as she wants. Besides, the poor child does need to forget about her status, she is too young to be remembered every time of _what she is_."

Edward nodded forcefully looking at his father. He hated to nod when he felt they were making a bad choice, but for now at least he had to agree with them, and hope to God or whatever was out there, that _this _would not upset His Majesty.  
They needed him to be on his good humor, and Jane to play his platonic love.

She had told him how he called her "Guinevere" and he in turn made himself called "Lancelot" when they were in private. Jane of course, was smart and very virtuous and never gave away, that good was how she was raised by her father and brothers. But this was a dangerous game they were playing.  
And the sudden introduction of a new member to the Seymour Household made it more dangerous.

--

**1536, February 3****rd****.**

**The More (Kimbolton Castle):**

Screams woke up half of the Household of where the Princess Dowager had been staying for the past miserable years of her existence.

The More was one of the most forsaken and poor Palaces in all England and the rest of the Isles. But punishment like this was because of her refusal to share power with her son, who was in the full authority to have banished her in a more forsaken place like this if he desired. Thank God –Katherine thought in irony, that he was at least merciful to leave her in the More, with only servants and confessors to keep her company.

But she felt that the time had come now that the pains in her back were getting greater. She had lied down on the bed for so many months now, since his death –she hardly had every got up to walk. She preferred to slumber and sit down, hardly ever walk or go out. It was too painful and Elizabeth Darrell whom Katherine was greatly thankful to have, saw that her Mistress wanted nothing more than Death to come and pay a visit.  
She wanted to die, Elizabeth realized as she watched her Mistress slowly getting up in a sitting position, facing opposite of the door.

Katherine on the other end of the view, tried to stretch her hands but she found she couldn't. She had lost mobility for spending too much time on slumber. But the strength to see a loved one was so great that she lifted herself slowly up, to see _Him_.

There was no need for Elizabeth to know for whom her Mistress was making her effort. Her gestures and tone of voice were enough to tell her that she was talking to her old flame: the martyr who not too long ago had defied the King and died, Sir Thomas Moore.

"How are you Madam?" Sir Thomas Moore's faint form called as he stood close to Katherine. For days now she had yearn to hear her voice, going from prayer and prayer and dream to dream to hear him. And now that she had him here, she was speechless.  
Left without words, she did not know what to say, nothing that was too proper, or modest to turn his attention away from the Princess. "Why did you leave?" She asked quietly to his faint form. It was vanishing once again from the room. The wind seemed call unto him to _return_ to the Netherworld from where he belonged and she was soon to join. She hoped she could, but if she did then nobody else, nobody of valor or spirit left in them would be present to defy her son, and defend the poor _Princess _Mary from the wrath of their enemies.

"I have missed you" Katherine told the faint figure of her love. Thomas did not seem to mind the fact that Katherine thought he was nothing more than a dream.  
Some time ago before him, she had a vision of her granddaughters coming to visit her.  
At first she had regarded them as a sign that her son was easing her horrible treatment; but then as she heard servants next door speaking of the "Princess' Madness" she had dismiss them as nothing more than Phantoms. Phantoms indeed of a crazy woman, a desperate woman who had been deprived of all she knew and loved to be here, suffering.

It pained Thomas that he was being regarded as a phantom by Katherine because of her past encounters with madness. She was so close to the madness that everything close to her as dead she regarded as unreal. But he was real, a clear proof that it was possible to become attached to somebody and come back to wait for them, until they could be together.  
Thomas was waiting for Katherine to come back, cross over with him together, on the other side.

"Katherine." He said simply, smelling her hair. No matter how old she appeared to be in the flesh, in soul she was still as fragile and beautiful _as she had always_ been to his eyes.  
"I love you." Thomas bent down to kiss his love, a farewell kiss and promise that they would see each other again. Katherine refused to let his memory go, still refusing to acknowledge that the figure standing in front of him, was in fact, no dark memory or phantom, but the real spirit of her beloved Thomas More.

It wasn't until she passed her hand through his grayish hair, that she noticed an old sensation in her womb, one that she had not noticed since … Henry's conception. It was _life._ More than that, to Katherine it was love.  
Thomas More, finally she realized, was standing in front of her. And he no illusion, he was real. He had come from so far and risked so much, once again, just to see his Princess one last time before he leaves her again for his new home.

The look she turned to Thomas was haunted, plagued by the memories of their last words, spoken to each other in heat and anger before he went to be whipped because of what they had done in _her_ chambers, under the King's nose. Katherine had never forgiven herself for his punishment and Thomas in return, had never forgiven her for the lack of secrecy and protection when they conceived another child.  
Said child was another fruit of their love, but unlike Henry who got the high life of being named successor to the throne and then King; Alice Moore was acknowledge as bastard and publicly shamed and scorned as the sin that destroyed poor Sir Thomas and his faithful wife Alice.  
It was not true, but people were rather dim when it came to distinguish between truth and fiction.

"_Its the wrong kind of place,_

_to be cheating on you …_

Their minds still lived in fairy tales, in old Folklore where the only colors that existed on said world were black and white. Heroes or Villains had made no place for an honest and neutral man like Sir Thomas. His world had once seen too many Heroes or Villain when he was alive, and though he never favored or opposed; just the mere sense of the former word 'villain' he despised enough to burn many for even speak it.

This man had his fair share of demons, that were good enough to send him to Hades, but God for some reason saw it enough punishment the alienation of his son and daughter –so he let him loose, but all with a price. To walk between both worlds until Judgment day passes, and promise the old Princess that he would be there for her when she died, so she could no longer bother others or God when he considered there were more important things that needed to be done on the English Realm.

Katherine, supposed to be ignorant of all the machinations that God was doing to stop her from any further protest against the King, made eye contact again with Thomas and silently she whispered in Latin something that surprised him. "Deux Ex Machina … I am this time closer to the truth than you imagine Tommy."

Thomas smiled. Glad to know that his first wife still had her ingenuity, he kissed her forehead and then went to her lips.

Katherine clenched her jaws until they hurt. Just seeing her love again, wanting to kiss her made her nervous. After he would –her mind told her, he would leave and never come back. She would be alone and desperate and once again succumbing to madness, one step away from her death.  
She needed his promise sealed with a deep kiss that he would come back for her; that he would never leave her side –no matter how far death was from her bed.  
"Please" She said to his form.  
Thomas nodded and slowly grabbed her face; in his hands he lifted her up slowly and then kissed her. His kiss was hungry and passionate, and yearning for more, Katherine slid down a hand through his faint form. He gasped as he felt her energy slid past him.

_It's the wrong time_

_She is pulling me through_

It was like making love to an untouched maiden for the first time. He needed more of her in him. No! He whispered to his passion, his reason told him not to. Now was not the time. They had their time, they lived it and for what ever was worth, at certain point they had enjoyed it. But that had come to pass.

"_Its a small crime and I got no excuse,_

_Is that alright with you?_

_Give my gun away (when its loaded)"_

There was no longer the need for each other's touch. It was over and now that God had sent him back, he realized that he could never return to Katherine. What they had was truly a mistake. They were not meant to be. He was meant for Alice and Joanne, a life of chastity for them. Katherine was only a flaw in God's plan, now he saw it.  
It was too late though to make amends. There only existed for this moment, them and their love.

"Princess … be well and behave, I will go but, I just want you to know that I will be waiting for you on the other side. Be safe for me please."

"_Is that alright? Yeah…_

_Is that alright with you? If you don't shoot it, how am I supposed to hold it?_

_Is that alright with you?"_

With one last kiss he left her and she was alone again, uncertain of what was to happen now.

"_Give my gun away (Is that alright with you?)…"_

"Lady Darrell" She said to her most trusted Lady who was looking from her entrance door to her Mistress' actions. She had no intention to judge or if asked, to deny about her Lady's beloved presence. It was not her who should tell the Princess. No matter what, in that moment that Elizabeth made her way close to her Lady's bed, she saw signs of death written all over the King's mother's face.

She immediately called for her physician, but he never came and when the Priests were fetched at Katherine's orders for her last rites, she was already close to death for any human or supernatural force to save her.  
She was going to die!  
The great Katherine of Aragon, whom many had come to admire and die for, was going to die before their very eyes. What tragedy it was for her Ladies, but more for Elizabeth Darrell who had grown so close to her lady, and a world without her was one not worth living for.

Don Miguel de Sa, her old Physician who came to her side, to give her with the help of her maid Elizabeth, medication to save her from the last pains before death; silently whispered in her ear as he saw her troubled form in pain. "Madam you are in pain …" Cries soon followed his words. "Y-you … Madam, must die."

"I know it." Was the Princess Dowager's answer as she told her chamberlain to take note of all she had to say. Her will needed to be expressed and no better time was now before the old flame of her body could be extinguished by death.

"_When its loaded … (Is that alright)_

_Is that alright with you?"_

Jorge de Athequa, Bishop of Llandaff, knowing Katherine would not have Mass spoken to her before dawn, as was the Catholic dogmas that rule their Faith, proceeded to take note of all of what his Lady had to say in her will and to those she planned to inherit what little fortune was left on her.

Some minutes after she had finished, carefully she went back to her pillow, drenched in cold sweat. One hand that was kept to her breast she removed as she grabbed her rosary, and no longer resisting the call to die; she prayed for her soul and begged Jesus -her Savior- to have mercy on it upon her arrival to be judged by the Father.  
Nobody in the room spoke as the hours went by, but soon as dawn had come to pass the Mass was being prepared and the Bishop and other priests gave Katherine the last blessings and reassurance that her arrival to God would be nothing more than graceful. Guessing that they lacked knowledge in her past sins, she believed their final words to be a true reassurance before her departure.

With one last breath, she gave her body and soul to God.

It must not have hurt, everybody in the room thought as they saw the serene and passive face of their Mistress. Elizabeth, who in her hands held the will of the Princess Dowager Katherine of Aragon; went to extend one hand to her Lady's eyes to close them carefully as not to leave any mark on her delicate body. Now her form would know no more pain.

"_Is that alright yeah?"_

"She is in God's hands now."

* * *

**1536, February 5th.**

**Letter to His Majesty Henry VIII (Now in _Windsor Palace_):**

**--**

_To my Lord and Master Henry the VIII,_

_It is with pain Henry that I am to depart and leave your side forever son, please do not mourn or pretend that my side was like a thorn to your back._

_For all my crimes (which you very well know which I am guilty off) having been an unworthy mother to a King like thee I think was the worst to offend God.  
I never hath stopped loving your person and knowing that your heart is always great and grand, I know you will forgive your granddaughter Mary, yes Henry she is the lively image of you, even more than she is of me, for that spot belongs to Elizabeth. Mary Tudor and yourself I beg and pray to the Lord that He could reconcile you both in a peaceful reunion._

_Deliver yourself to God my son. And never hate those who have caused you harm, for the only one fit to judge is God. I have never known any Master or Liege as tender and sweet, or, merciful as Your Majesty._

_Your Majesty will allow his mother to give you this: A gift from the old Royalty pertaining of the Old Spanish Fashion. Hold no begrudge against Emperor or _any_ familiar you might consider close for I assure you she is your friend and not your foe. Your foe lies closer than you think, at home disguising itself as the lamb when it is indeed a wolf ready to devour your soul._

_May the angels keep you and now … as mother to son I assure you that only my love I leave you along with jewels from Castile and other precious values that you will do with them as your wisdom sees fit my King._

_To the most noble of all Kings and Masters I have ever had. _

_Yours truly and forever: The Constant Princess, Katherine –Catalina de/of Aragon._

_Consort of Prince Arthur Tudor of Wales._

_--_

"_Give my gun away (Is that alright? Yeah),_

_when its loaded"_

Henry by the time he finished, he knelt and silently wept. This woman who tormented, caused him much ache to his heart by refusing to submit to his will, and even now when he should rejoice she would no longer pose threat to him; he found himself succumbing to his weakness and longing for the mother he never had … and now, never would.

"_Is that alright with you?_

_If you don't shoot it, am I supposed to hold it?_

_Is that alright with you?"_

Anne sat alone in her chair peacefully reading what her Ladies were sure was another book of Martin Luther. A Reformer some of her Ladies had cried in outrage when they offered to read about his _teachings_. Many had said it was blasphemy and first they would rather be devoured.

They had not been devoured; the King had not gone to those limits _yet_. But many had been dismissed or punished by forever being banished from the Boleyn Queen's Court. While some wept and begged for another place in her Court; others gladly took banishment as a sign of miracle –for many among them had whispered [when they were in their _Mistress'_ service] that she was not too last long. Her days were already numbered, if not by the miracle that she should soon provide the King with a healthy male heir to put ahead of his daughter, the Princess Elizabeth.

Neither Nan nor Madge had yet told the Queen and Mistress about the late _tragedy_. They were not sure how she would react. In other time when it was about Isabella and some misfortune done to her by fate, she would have smiled with her cat-like face and swiftly gone to the King's chambers to announce a banquet in honor of such great news. But _this_ was something else entirely.

"_Give my gun away (Is that alright? Yeah) when its loaded …_

_Is that alright? _

_Is that alright with you?"_

Katherine was not an enemy or foe that Anne would have boasted in her death. Both Royals had started as friend, but as always their ambitions to be the first woman on Henry's heart had set them on the path to rivalry. Each time becoming greater as the years passed that lead to Anne's ascension.

In the end Anne had decided that she would ignore any fate befallen on Katherine. She was to her judgment –nothing more than an old memory withered away by the winds of time. It was no use for a Queen who was soon to be discarded by an unfaithful King, unless she provided such King with a healthy and _long-living_ male heir; that she dwells with old figures of the past.  
So when she was told of the Princess Dowager's death, she stood back from her chair and went to put her book away in one of her drawers next to her bed. She told her ladies that they could take the next week to see their families, and if they were not to come back for another week than good riddance for she needed time alone.

Nan and Madge of course had protested, but she told them it was no use for she needed time to think, and solitude within a crowded room and no privacy would do her no good –so they left. True to her words, they did not come back until weeks later -where rumors in Whitehall where that the King was to prepare a great banquet and dress every one of his Royal Family with Yellow Colors to feast on the good "blessings that the Lord" had given England.

"_Is that alright? Yeah?_

_Give my gun away when its loaded _

_Is that alright, yeah?_

_If you don't shoot it, how am I supposed to hold it?"_

The man broke free, so he had no longer any reason to anger nobody, that is, nobody of importance.

"_Is that alright, yeah?"_

His mother and father, the last remnants of his past, were gone … and now he was free man before God and his conscience.

"_Give my gun away when its loaded …"_

The one of the accomplished Ladies of Katherine of Aragon; Lady Anne back then and now, Queen to England and Lady of Ireland; lay torn between her duties of organizing the feast, and paying honor to a great Lady who had once reigned over England with a firm, yet loving hand, enough for all of her past and present subjects to remember her.

It was said that where Katherine was buried was not to be St. Paul –where she married the Prince Arthur of Wales, but a more humble Monastery, already stripped of its riches and ancient, the old Peterborough Cathedral. It was beautiful once, but Henry's actions as well as Anne of stripping it of its beauty and riches had made it a place for beggars and thieves to sack on whatever they could find.  
It was shameful that such great figure was to be buried there, on the lowest slums and not on St Paul where she should have, as there was where she married in all her glory and named Princess of Wales.

But the funeral procession of a Princess Dowager held no importance as that of a Queen, _not even_ (Anne thought ironically) if said Princess was the King's mother and the defender against the Scots in the Legendary Battle against them taking place in Flodden Field.

"_Is that alright, is that alright?"_

It was a poor finale for a Warrior Princess like Catalina, but life, as Queen Elizabeth of York had once mentioned to her many years ago, ever was. You had to live with what God and life gave you.

"_Is that alright with you? …_

What Katherine wanted when she was young, was the same thing Anne yearned not too long ago when she was a child; to live happy and in peace. But for them; who were women of ambitious families, whose destiny had been decided ahead of their own -long before they had reason; life was an every-day battle ground where happiness was an illusion as was love. To lower your guard one second, another ambitious woman could come and take back your place.

"_Is that alright with you?_

_No …"_

* * *

**A/N:** I think most of you know why I put in modern times as if History that the letter resides in Windsor, and that is because I will make a connection to modern times from this timeline and how the future is shaped because of this alternate universe. The world will be different as to who has the Power and the events we commonly know that happened, did but some in a certain way and some were avoided.

You'll see.  
R/R


	31. To Be Loved in Return

_**A/N:**_

_I am sorry to say one more chapter ahead. Once again thanks to my reviewers, this is for you and readers don't forget to review!_

_R/R_

_~ Carolina_

_  
Enjoy_

_**

* * *

**_

Chapter# 29: **"To be loved In Return"**

_"__This day is the end of our slavery, the fount of our liberty, the beginning of joy. Now the people, liberated, run before their King with bright faces."_ _– _**Thomas More, **_**June 24**__**th**__**. **__**Coronation Ceremony on Westminster of King Henry and Queen Katherine.**_

--

**1536, March 1****st****.**

**Locksley States, near Scottish Borders.**

The Duke and the Duchess of Locksley were getting ready to leave. Today was their big day –thought Margaret in irony.

She had bore as the Duke had wanted, a male heir to his Dukedom; and of course he wanted to be grateful so he left her a large purse to spend in whatever she wanted. Meg was very grateful for him, he finally got the male heir he wanted and she finally acquired some freedom of her own, plus a tremendous weight to be lifted off from her back.

That was a relief that Meg was happy to say, that in a few years she would see no more children coming out from her belly.

She had already seen enough. She was young and her husband knew it, so he found it wise to still keep her on a leash while he lived and was married to her. Her father would have told her it was no freedom, but it was better than nothing, she got nothing to loose by spending the Duke's allowance on frivolities.

What else was left for her to do, then to spend on make up and clothing for herself?

Meg went to her daughter's room. Mara was awake; clearly she had suffered from another nightmare. "Mommy." Echoing in the silence, she said gently to Meg who grabbed her, and rocked her in her arms afterwards to sleep.

Mara always felt guilty that she could not help her mother go to sleep as Meg had done it with her. There was nothing she could do, Meg always said to her daughter, it was better she took her mind off things like her parents' problems. She was still too young to worry about those things, yet.

"Meg" The Duke had called his wife after she had come out from their daughter's bedroom.

"Yes?" She answered back, humbling lowering her head as a sign to show him he was still her master, and she the slave.

"Meg … you should call me Duke or at least George. I thought we had the decency or enough closeness by now, you and me, to call ourselves by our given names." He said.

_Laughter_ "I would _Duke_. You and I are nothing but a marriage contract that the King forged so he could have me punished for spending time with the man he never knew, and _You …_ nothing more than an ally. You and I know the truth here _'my Duke' …_ _'George'_ whatever you wish. Smart enough you are, you know why you married me, you are in need of an heir that I already gave, and back then as the _King_ you were in a hurry to have one soon, especially when there is no more heirs and if there is no more, I know that some ambitious family close to the borders –your paranoia tells me that you fear they could get hold of those lands, so you preferred an already widow but fertile still to give you off many children. So far I have only given you two, a male and a girl George, what more do you want from me?" She pleaded with him for the first time since they met, to be reasonable and understandable. But it is hardly realistic to believe that the Duke would ever be logical to her empathy, and to put himself on a position such like hers. He like many men on England had been taught that duty first and love later.

His interests alone for marrying Meg Roper nee More in the past had been purely for breeding purposes. A man raised in a strict Household had never been show love like his wife had.

Already Meg had been married two time and she still gave away too much of her heart. Whereas George Locksley, the Duke's lack of heart made him cruel and incomprehensive to Meg's suffering, her over-excessive empathy made her an easy target for men to take advantage of that love and turn into slavery.

Perhaps it was Meg's last lesson in discretion and virtue that had proven her ultimate downfall. She had given too much of her heart to men who had only disgraced her and left her more upset than the previous one she had mourned. Duke Locksley was no different.

Yet at this moment, something within Meg chose to fight. Perhaps it was her spirit of rebelliousness; locked away like her father's for so many years that now it chose to make itself present. Or, it was her woman's intuition and the feeling in her gut that she had to, for her children whom she had neglected for so long at the hands of the Duke. Already one had gone far away, and the two (now three with the new arrival) were left vulnerable and in a weak position, she couldn't afford no more mistreatment at her husband's hand.

Whatever the reason she had stood up, and whatever outcome she was not afraid to face it for once.

Meg stood in front of the Duke, she must have taken her time to rehearse this line over and over again stashed away so many times she desired to use it against the cause for her main disgrace. Yet like any good and passive woman, she had abstained herself from outburst and behaved like any good wife would have done at the sight of her husband's apathy. Quiet and graceful she was always the good example on how a wife should be. She descended from a lineage, as all of her past and present generation had done, of a culture of wives, educated and sworn under the bible that their duty was to breed, and especially those married off or promised to nobility and royalty were to exercise their duty as their first priority in a marriage.

Love as it was taught to George of Locksley, came in second. But to Meg whose weakness it had always been to be so affectionate to others, other than herself that is, now decided to put an end to the recent years of abuse.

She stood up high. Must have rehearsed this position over and over again looking at the mirror so many times, that now she was as dignified as one warrior would have looked in front of his Goliath. Locksley hardly tall was the image of Goliath to Meg. This man had made her endure humiliations and pressure under the guise she would give him a male son. And now that she had she would voice all that she had not during their four years of marriage. She was not to be without voice any longer –finally she told herself she was Meg More, daughter of a great man also the cause of her pain, and as such she would honor the name of her House by showing she was not just any English Rose.

"What do you want?" Was the Duke's response, arrogant in its form, yet no different than any man descended from more than six generations of nobles would have answered, should he had been in the same position with a wife whom he considered so below him, with only barely nobles in her lineage to make herself heard to the noble ears of a man who descended from Royal blood; so much unlike the blood of hers that compared to his was that of a commoner.

Yet the Duke listened to her patiently. He wanted peace, he had his son, no more reason to debate and God knew in his soul that he wished always for a life of peace. And he wanted no debates, much less with his wife whom he had seen through the worst preserve her dignity out for him, and endure all the pain and humiliation for him, so he could be granted at long last his desire for a son.

Whether the Duke wished for his wife's piety to also include in her the all _sense of "good dignity"_ that she had always had in the past, Meg was unaware off. She wanted herself to be know, that for the first time since their marriage, she was not going to let the Duke throw any more cock and bull abuse at her. Not while she had one single breath in her body and there were children involved, children she had come to love from since before they were born!

So Meg stood high.

The Duke stood low.

"You think you can use me as a heartless bastard for the other women in the Kingdom to laugh at me! Be grateful I have never … ever I say **in our lives! Have** _I_ the Duke_** of Locksley**_ caused you shame or regret by an affair, like your good _**"saintly"**_ father did with your whore Princess?"

"How dare you call my father that Sir? He had a moment of weakness." She defended her father with much steam as she was to confront him for many years of abuse against her child by William, Anthony.

"I dare call him that and more … He made your More name, had you been still a widow or not married to some poor blunt like William; a name in shambles! Have I ever …"

Meg paced back from his restraint at her shoulder by his hands. "You mistreated my children! How does that sound for shame _Sir?" She _made a mock bow to overpower his manhood and pride even more. "Do you think I have never seen behind the closed door how you mistreat my son? He has only been near 8 for Lord's sake … has he not suffered enough by my account and yours?"

She yelled yet he turned away and with annoyance he called his servants to show her to her rooms, where she was to be put_ until_ she returned to common sense.  
She in return must have yelled "No!" so many times because the Duke nearly banged his head against the wall as he muttered he needed something for his headache and to quiet down the "incessant screams from that woman" –his wife.

The life that Meg had known in the past was gone and there was no turning back. She had come to realize that if she wanted _to survive_ in this hard-cruel world, she, better start dealing with the reality she was living, or be left alone like her father was in the end. "No George I will not back down! Not this time, better was when I was a woman of courage in my dead husband's arms, but I have you as you have me as well, you are just going to have to live with me and my demons as I will with yours … _Duke Locksley"_

* * *

**1536**

**End of February:**

The King was at Greenwich, and Anne as always could not be any pleased that he was to go hunting yet again … to Wolf Hall. She was sure of that. Sir John Seymour had become a _very_ good member of the King's Council now, and to make matters worse, her dear brother George was as paranoid as her saying that the King's _new_ faction (supporting Jane's _Court_) was pushing to put Sir Nicholas Carew on the Privy Council and take George's spot.

That was preposterous –Anne often thought with anger as she had seen the many charms that wench Seymour had befallen unto her husband to calm down his horrible humors –because of his father's death.

Had he told Jane at night, she might have often wondered when she never saw her husband bed her anymore and part of her soul wanted to believe it was to secure her pregnancy, but yet she asked herself 'had he told Jane of Thomas Moore and the secret relation they had both shared while the other lived?'

Was he to be as reciprocal in his honesty as he had once told and bowed Anne he would be only to her?

Many amongst Court said that Jane was just like her, another opportunist looking for a Throne. But unlike Jane, she was educated; Jane was merely schooled in the usual trends of women of the House. She knew how to tend the wools, was a master at stitching and sowing, but no more.

What sons could she provide Henry than what she could for the future? Already Anne was far along with her pregnancy. A baby was sure to come out from her womb –so sure she was. She was not be displaced and then found as a reason for annulment like Isabella had been before her; or maybe it wasn't the solely reason why Anne was working so hard against the clock.

Maybe it was the fact that she knew that had Isabella not died the way she did, and died later in her husband's marriage to her, then all blame would be on her and subsequently her marriage to the eyes of the Pope and Christendom would seem invalid and void, pressuring for the King to displace Anne and that a new marriage to much, new and fresh maid would become more suitable.

Yes, that was it. Anne was nervous, no, she was terrified! What more could there be expected from the man who single handedly got rid of two of the most major influences in his life? One of them who died by his hand directly, and the other indirectly by the King's own denial of his birth mother and parent.

Anne in that moment with a firm heart decided that this would not happen to her. She would see the dawn of a new era, and on the edge of a new world she and her family would be once the Christ that was on her womb was to be born. Surely this time, a boy, a fine boy and not like her weak failure before with short lived Henry Arthur. This would be the King's long awaited Prince, and she would be sure once he lived, that he sent that wench Seymour out of his Court, vanished forever now that Henry was sure to be under her fingers.

Part of her logic told her she was naïve, and that Henry no matter what –could never be controlled, not by her nor anyone. What made her think that she, a woman of less outburst and courage to scandal than Isabella was to control a lion like Henry?

_The Most Happy_ was now … the Most Happy for she had a lot to prepare for her long awaited healthy Prince.

* * *

**1536, March**

**Greenwich Palace **

The May Queen and all of her Ladies were ordered to stay with her. The King wanted a private jousting ceremony for himself, and alone without even his Queen to hold him company. Nobody squabbled in the contrary and how bad it looked for the Boleyn Queen not to be there, but better was not discuss with the mature lion that Henry was.

Thomas Moore had once said that if the lion knew its own strength than no man could control him, everybody knew this to be true in their Monarch. They never bothered him, disagreed with him or told him thing he desired never to hear.

For Henry, it was only the news that pleased him that reached his ears, no more.

On the front line was Norris. Read and set to go out with his helmet. His lance was raised up high, but to an invisible opponent. The King was nowhere to be seen, as he opened his visor to look up for His Majesty, others turned the same and to the Queen's Family surprise they found Henry, coming out as strong and enthusiastic as always before a challenge from his tent, to greet the eldest of Sir John's daughter. Jane.

She smiled peacefully to his Majesty and offered him the gratitude to come and see her, but yet she replied with dignity that she preferred if His Majesty was with his Queen and not with her, who had no standing in the presence of such high like His Majesty. Henry oblivious to the machinations of families to get his Consortium cared not for the rumination that one decision to have his hand might have made for the future; it was only his feeble heart that made the decision and not his mind.

And if his mind were to speak, what would it say besides to go away and give Anne a chance? Would it tell Henry of all the bad decisions and people that were sacrificed for them?

Henry knew not of his conscience no longer or his pride. He had found a new love in his _Guinevere_ and he as Lancelot pretended to be faithful to her, in every means possible by overlooking other Dame or Mistress that crossed the King's bed. On this moment he would faithful only to his Guinevere, and just as she had promised to be faithful to him, he promised in return he would vow and serve no other women than her. Not even the Queen –his mind had whispered.

Jane nervously smiled as she saw her father and eldest brother, sitting next to the scheming Earl and his son the Lord Rochford.

"It will be alright Jane. I will handle them; you and your family don't have to worry." He whispered and all worry was lifted from her soul. In return she granted him his wish, having wrapped a small piece of silk, part of her dress to his lance. _'For luck …'_ she whispered.

What happened after was that the King was a lucky man riding in front of a big opponent, but he did not care. He had his good charm with him, and as long as he a piece of her, no lance made of man or God could destroy this King.

But Norris, his opponent, brave but yet besotted with the Queen; regarded Henry as an obstacle to get near his target. And there, as the horses rose against one another he saw that to get to his target, it was not through the King's good graces, rather through his last hours of breath.

So he made a decision, a brash decision, but taking the bold valor he was known for, he thrust his weapon deeper than he intended into the King's chest plate making England's monarch fall.

"No!" The Boleyn members as the rest of the Court present raised themselves up high in alarm.

Charles Brandon ran up to his friend. He called for Thomas Boleyn and his son as he did with the Seymour duo of men to help him carry the King to safety and bring Dr. Linacre with them to tend to him as soon as possible.

An envoy of Cromwell, who had come to the King to discuss another matter entirely with the King, ran to his horse to tell his Master of the news. If there was one man in England who needed to know of the King's condition was not his Queen or Chancellor Audley, but rather his right hand –Cromwell.

He would know what to do in any case God forgive, the King passed away from them. Already he could hear murmurs that Princess Elizabeth was to be crowned Queen, others said they should wait for the result of Anne's pregnancy, but others scoffed at those who said that proclaiming that why should they expect more when she had proven herself to be like the other wife Henry had? Delivering a good number of dead boys and girls, save one that had not been the longed for Prince they had set their lives on. Anne was not going to deliver –they said it would end in shambles and if the King died they better hurry up and crown the little tot as Queen.

It was useless to set their hopes on the unborn babe, better focus on the present and what they had.

What of the Princess Mary? Some asked. The envoy heard many whispered that she was part of this too, but he thought it was better not to inform it to his Master Cromwell. The Earl of Essex was sure to set all the _rebels_ that were supporting Mary, in case the King died and that left Anne as Queen Mother to crown her daughter Queen.

Mary would surely be placed under house arrest and any attempts to get out of the Country would be punishable by death or prison to those involved, even Mary whom Anne had already declared that she was to be the _bastard's death as she is mine!_

No, the envoy told himself _he_ could not send Mary to that fate. She deserved better than to be blamed for those who saw to right wrongs done to her by father and stepmother.

Out of the most unlikely circumstances, two people who had never before heard or seen each other face to face had become _friends_.

The look on Anne was of perplexity as Madge Shelton, her cousin came storming into her Quarters where she was listening to her friend Mark play a new tune for her.

"Madge!" She called but the young Lady did not listen. She started to mumble; afraid she might upset her cousin in her condition.

It wasn't until Anne snapped her fingers loudly at her that she came back from her shock and told Anne what had happened with Henry.

Anne needed Mark's help not to fall. She started to sob in his robes, muttering that she wished no ill fate from God to befall on her husband.

It did not take two seconds to see in that moment how much devotion Anne had to her husband, she rushed immediately to her chapel and prayed to the image of the Cross that He the Almighty, might spare her love for his Country's sake and for her, who was scared to rule alone and leave a poor child in her minority to a father she was only beginning to knew.

Cromwell, the King's right hand man in Spiritual matter already dealing with much of the paperwork could hold no longer his breath, and needed to find a place to rest before he turned himself mad with stress and frustration. He came to the Queen and saw her kneeling to the floor, making the Holy form of the Cross, showing some submission to the old ways.

Cromwell too prayed to whatever God was listening that He might hear and spare the King, for he knew just how much the Boleyn family hated him and all his people. If the King died Spain was to take this opportunity and disregard the Princess Dowager's words for invasion, claiming Mary to be the true Heir ahead of Elizabeth. If there was war, he did not doubt the Boleyn clan would defend England to their last breath, but they were schemers not fighters or military tacticians and neither was her.

Katherine of Aragon, the old Princess was, but she was long dead and the only successor she had to leave down her skills and knowledge had been her son, and now unless there was a miracle, he would be dead too.

* * *

**King's Quarters:**

Henry awoke moments later from a deep slumber. He expected to find his wife's brother George and her father, but to his surprise in his most hour of need there was Jane whose smile lifted up his spirits, and then there was her closest family, brother and father who had been praying with his best mate Charles for his speedy recovery.

Later when he was taken to Greenwich Palace, he made a banquet telling his wife that thank you for her prayers. But what he wished to keep from her was that what saved him was not her love or affection but rather Jane's gift before the Jousting match. Something he kept at the banquet so close to his heart.

His wife had been worried for him so he did not invite Jane to the Dinner Party for his recovery, or her family. He wanted to please his wife who was carrying his next male Heir. And part of him neither wanted to hurt her, not when she had given up nearly her health just so she could see him safe, it was the least he could do as a husband and friend.

He retreated to his Private Quarters where he called instead of his wife for Jane. Jane he could see it in her eyes very reluctant of coming, but it did not matter. He wanted her to be there and to show her that he feared no wrath from the world from their affair. The world could go in flames, but they would still be together for their love was so great that nobody could oppose it. And for the first time, he found himself with the image that this was a woman that he could risk a whole Kingdom and happiness with a wife that still loved him and cherished him (somewhat). Could Henry really carry that risk and later regret it … what was going to his mind that seeing this muse and beauty made him forget of all his troubles?

Why was she so special that he had to turn his eye on her and not on the other sensual beauties that are sure to outrank her in brains and charms? What had she done to him, to his heart and soul? He felt bewitched by Jane, just the name felt right and imposing next to his. He wished then to spend the remaining of his years next to hers, to grow old and have children and bed her every night and be loyal.

He wished no longer for any Mistresses or pleasure obtained by game and women. He wished for only one woman and that was Jane. His sweet Jane who reminded him of Elizabeth of York, the only tender and sweet woman he had even known to sincerely care for him. While his mother Katherine was always an imposing figure, she was never the mother type to look after him. She always left him in the care of others, and restrained him from having true friends, and when prior to that he had been with Margaret Beaufort it had just been plain worse.

Elizabeth of York's short time with him truly left an imprint on Henry's life and it is hard to imagine how a little boy without a true mother to tend and care for him as a true mother would, and a Governess as strict as Margaret; must have coped by with himself as he grew up. All the women in his life were always trying to rule his judgment, his policies, his bed, his preferences and … his heart.

No women he had known prior to Jane, but Elizabeth, had loved him other than the fact he was the King. They all wanted something out of him, even his mother. He was so sorry and truly mourned her death. But the woman had never shred a tear for him when he was sick, she always told him to be strong. But he was only ten years old, what would a ten year old know about being strong? He might not have wanted her, but he needed her.

The dream of her shadows at night was gone when Jane came. A plain girl, in an un-plain Court had caught the eye of the most handsome King of Christendom. Fancy that!

"Jane" He called to her. "Please come sit by my leg." He flinched as he tried to stand up to show the girl she had nothing to fear of him.

The pain he felt on his leg made him wait for her. Dr. Linacre had said it would be over soon, but the old doctor was wrong, the pain was still near unbearable. It was not apothecary or medication he needed at the moment, it was Jane's touch. She could heal the pain on his leg, as that of his heart that ached for her.

H realized he needed to have her, not in the flesh but in soul.

He needed to know if she truly loved him, if she was truly his Guinevere.

Jane was fearful she might hurt herself by going near the King. She heard Henry was a good lover from her companions and that he treated every woman with respect and later if he tired of them, he would send them generous gifts so they would never forget His Grace.

But did she want that? All of the women were so promiscuous, and they were not harmed if Henry was to throw away their affections, but she who had never known the touch of man would surely will if it happened. She had fallen in love, she admitted it. But she did not want it.

She wanted nothing more than to return home and be with her brothers and sisters, alone and in peace. But Henry's eye, out of all the women in England, it had to be her to catch his sight. Why her? She often wondered.

"Jane please … I beg you, I promise I will not harm thee Princess." He insisted.

Jane went over to sit lightly on the King's lap. She refused to look at him. He then asked if he could have a kiss from her, which she easily could have answered no, but his touch on her neck made her grow weak. Turning his eyes on him she found no use but to please him, and herself for their longing kiss on their lips.

However sweet it was the moment the two of them enjoyed; it was cut short by an unexpected visit. "Oh my God!" Anne Boleyn had come bursting in her husband's chambers, dressed in a black conservative dress that hid away part of her pregnancy.

After Henry and Jane broke apart he told Jane, seeing his wife's ill humor at them, to leave. She did almost immediately and now it was only Henry and Anne alone at each other's mercy.

"**You!** You were scoring off with that **wench**!"

She yelled and closed the door behind her with a loud bang. However far along her pregnancy was, she seemed not to care as get a decent explanation from Henry on why he would cheat on her when she needed his support the most!

He offered no explanation, but he went to her and told her it was not Jane's fault but his, and said he promised to visit her tonight. She spat at his face to never touch her again, and if he came she would outright reject him.

"Anne you cannot take it against Jane … promise me you will not hurt her!"

"Hurt her? What about me Henry, have you forgotten me? How could you?"

Henry shook his head, and did not want to face more of his wife's angry looks, feeling as if he was guilty to have caused such pain to Anne's heart.

* * *

_**A/N:** I hope you like it. Next chapter will be intense major intense character madness and tragedy. Blood and Marriage is the title of this novel and I warn if you are the one who loves happy endings or bad guy good guy sort of thing than go look for another fic, for this one deals more with the humanity can inner demons, the complicity of tragedy in all our characters and icons._

_Enjoy and have a happy weekend._


	32. Never shall we die

__

_Here it is guys final chapter, and instead of putting a song, I will but I put more flashbacks from Treason By Parentage, Part I, to Anne's past loss of baby to compare with Joan Moore's loss of her own child and how she said almost the same haunting words to the father now spoken to the son. Also! The quotes are there for a reason, and yes the end is traumatizing so I am warning you if you do not go along with traumatic and dramatic fics, then this is not one for you lovers! Enough, read and enjoy. _

_This was very difficult to write as Thomas More, but this was one of the hardest part, I was not a fan don't think I was, so dealing into anne's head and to henry's was the most difficult as with the situation, more soul searching inside them and in their heads it is like you turn into them, you become them! Honestly guys you do. So hard, also doing more research and re edit to acquire more the dramatic and tragic melodramatic and suspense effect you want to create._

_Enjoy_

_R/R_

* * *

_**Chapter #30: **_**Never shall we die.**

"_Never shall we die …" –_Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End. (Pirate's song to the Brethren Court)

--

_From the water of the wells, a squabbling child that lay dormant on her father's soothing voice woke up when she heard the haunting calling of her name "Anne …Anne."_

_She was here … she was near … it was death. In all its aspect death had foresaw her fate and now she had come for her soul. Anna Maria turned to her small brother George who was whimpering behind a corner, she must've taken her hand for later she found herself running in full desperation to get away from the King's soldiers._

_There was a cruel voice behind that never ceased to haunt her endless nights, it was his voice that made her and George cry, as one soldier approached her and tore her from her brother's side. George was crying and yelled "sister" so many times, but she could not come to his rescue anymore._

_It was game over; there would be no gentle soul of any man or woman that could save her now. For the first time since she was robbed of her mother, she was utterly alone._

* * *

**1536, March 1****st****.**

**Greenwich Palace.**

_**Queen's Bedchamber:**_

**Anne Boleyn**, England's second anointed Queen to its present monarch owed all of her jewels and family's fortunes to the tiny life she held in her womb. As she folded her arms, she sighed deeply and closed her eyes imagining when had been the last time when she had a son. Ah! There it was! Arthur, his name was Harry Arthur Tudor of Wales, in honor of His Majesty's _father_. What a beautiful boy he _was_.

"_He had ten clean toes, white; he did not cry when he was away mama"_ The Bishop of Durham's prudence had somewhat consoled Anne during her grief at her son's shocking death. He was supposed to have taken care off, but something happened, she was sure something happened and there was somebody in **that** Household who plotted to have her and Henry's offspring murdered because of the fact that a son would supplant that wench's daughter!

Oh how she hated that bastard. She was nothing more than a bastard, that she was sure. Ha! Thomas More delighted himself in taking that _"poor soul" _as he called her, to his House and flaunt her all around as England's "_most honored Lady"_.

That had not angered Anne. No, she could never had been angered at her real father in law for taking an orphan in, it was in his nature to take pathetic life forms and nurture them until they grow up and free to roam the world on their own. But Mary, she would never free. Anne had made sure of that.

She had made the girl an offer which she couldn't refuse_, but she did._

Out of two wives, Anne was proven to be the sanest in her first years as Queen. Isabella was said to be so much like her mother, Joanne the Mad –Katherine's ill-fated sister. Like her father she wore a proud arrogance that she was not ashamed to display in her subjects, even Katherine had agreed at some point, that if she could not be helped it was best she be put away for her son's safety. But not by Anne! Oh the Old Woman had long fought to have their marriage delayed.

Prudence was the badge under which Katherine had managed to foil the entire world that she had a virgin, free of sin and touch of man, _or any other compromise_; attaching her heart only to Arthur and to the promise that she would give him a son. She had succeeded. Anne could not help but feel little jealous that another of her old rival had succeeded in what she could not –to bring England a healthy male heir!

She had seen when Henry was on his coronation. He looked so grand, and big. Even for a seven year old boy he still inspired true bravery, courage and all the traits that had been so popular in medieval sonnets. He had been his Country's ray of hope, and born on an age of tumult, he did not seem to care and maybe that is why he managed to take hold on the throne for so long. Because he never focused on the past, he always focused ahead. That was why he was so grand, but it was only a dream in which they were living.

None of what she had was real, or had real possession; all of what she had was borrowed, and had been taken from other through their blood and betrayal; just as they had done with other poor souls in the past. They were no different from what the people that were executed.  
Too many they were just seen as another force of nature, replacing one vile institution for theirs.

Like an elderly man with a youthful bride, he had doted on her, heaping costly presents and jewels into her ambitious and willing hands, eager to propitiate her slightest whim or fancy. Anne had inspired the inherent kindness over his ruthless female figures that had ruled him in the past. He had wanted to please her and he did. Surrounding her with every gift and want, she felt especial, loved and unique from all the years of absent love from her father, and a mother that had never been present even when she lived.

No young woman could have been more obliging to his love … the rest wanted only opportunity, and when he would tire, they would demand their honor back with fructuous marriages and titles bestowed on their families.

"_She is no more different than her sister, two Boleyn whores!"_

"_I hear she has a mole and a sixth finger, she speaks to the devil they say. How else could you explain that God took our Prince from his cradle? She is Satan's servant I tell you … heed my words!" _Murmurs of unease began to stir the Country in uproar as they now cried "witch!" to her door.

_They_ –in England, from poor to rich- had all come together under the assertion that Anne Boleyn must be removed.

"_Take away their freedom and they will applaud, take their faith and promise them bread and water, and they will applaud even more … give them death and they will love you for it! But, give them pain, take away their lands and force them down to love while their stomachs lurch for food –they will make you pay the price.  
Not even the strongest army in the world will be enough to stop them. If they claim for blood they will have it."_

Anne's old Teacher, the Archduchess Margaret in Malines had told her when on her first days of arrival when she asked her what made a Monarch be loved by its people.

The Queen of England was a natural target for many slanders, many of which were not true, but she learned to deal with the foul mouth through out the years before coming to England. Her sister had always said _"people will always talk to you Anne, just pretend it is all a nightmare that is how I get by through life ha, ha!" _but how could she overhear the whispers, when they came from her own Ladies, and people she had once trusted with her life that would never betray her.

Another incident came to mind as she dismissed her Ladies, when they finished putting on her nightgown.

--

**1532 **_**8:00 AM**_

_It was morning; half of the Court was there. The interior of the chapel glowed with happiness and rich silver and gold from chalices and crosses._

_Thomas Moore who had a recent squabble with the Princess Dowager, over God knows what was seated next to his __**'wife'**__ and in between Anne and Henry. He was somewhat pleased for a change to see His Majesty –the Queen. Anne guessed he and Katherine had another fight, there was no other logical explanation for his humor today._

"_Sweetheart" He said, taking her attention away from his father, she smiled at him, her attention was now shifted to Friar Peto who repeated the sermon twice to the Church goers. He had briefly cut a glance at Moore; but More chose to ignore it and focused his stare at the floor._

_Anne felt uneasy at this. _

"_Thomas" Anne's stomach lurched as she caught some of the couple's heated argument. This was no place and time for marital discussion, but her curiosity, ever a trait of Anne's, got the best of her. _

"_Alice this is not the time."_

"_I saw you leaving Warham's side; you said to him you were to go to our House. You were not there _**that night**_. Tell me … _Husband_ where were you?" Anne felt some sympathy for this woman. Having to discover that your perfect husband is not perfect must feel like a tremendous blow to your heart._

_The Lady Alice always seemed like a woman who knew when to contain her emotions, but it seemed that today if she was not careful, or, if Thomas Moore was not carefully by Anne's standards they could easily ruin their attempts at having a peaceful day._

"_The night was … long."_

"_Long? You did not come until nearly four in the morning, and not next day or next week, but in two weeks. I did not ask because you sent me so many letters that you were residing with the King discussing his _Matter_. All those nights Thomas … did you plan to continue insulting my intelligence _… Husband_?"_

"_Excuse me woman if I choose not to tell you my whereabouts … It's going to get worse Alice, I am sorry; I never meant you no harm."_

_Alice as her husband remained silent during the remainder of Mass. None of them turned to look at their partner's faces which were both twisted in anger and pain caused by each other's venom. Anne cast a glance to her husband who seemed oblivious to what was going one between his father and his wife. His anger as Katherine's hatred and love for Thomas was tearing up his marriage with Alice._

_But she did not want to intervene in something that was not hers to solve. By the little time she had spent with this man, she had learned that Moore was a man not to be optimistic about when it came to marriage. The man was plagued with inner demons, and part of this plague had resulted from his liaison with Katherine._

_He thought he could easily let go of Katherine? He was wrong, dead wrong and very naïve to think that Katherine would have given up so easily on something that brought her so much passion to her life. _

_The mass was about to end. Father Peto turned his glance again to More, somehow knowing that Moore would agree on what he had left to preach. _

"_On this Holy day" Said Father Peto breaking the silence, and leaning forward with his hands clutching the lectern. "we are obliged to say that some of Your Majesty's preachers are too much like those of Ahab's days, in whose mouth was found a false and lying spirit! Theirs is a gospel of Sin and of the vilest lies, not afraid to tell of license and libertine ways monarchs can rid themselves of their faith, which no King in Christendom should dare even to contemplate! For theirs are mouths that will burn in the fires of hell!"_

_Murmurs of unease began to claim the Courtiers. If the Friar continued, all of the Church's worshippers could be forced out in uproar against him. Henry's eyes however; were nothing like his servants, his were of malice and calculating hatred, only soothed by Anne's hand on top of his as it to calm the beast inside him._

_Peto's voice rose with even more fanaticism, glory and truth in his words he continued, "I beseech Your Grace to take heed, not to pursue the course you seem to be taking, or else you will follow Ahab! Who married that whore Jezebel, and surely incur his unhappy end, _**that dogs will lick your blood**_ as they licked his, which God avert and forbid!"_

_This was the last straw needed to cause uproar. Courtiers and part of the clergy leapt angrily to their feet to shout the friar down. Foul language was being spoken in the House of God. The Friar kept screaming of the King's wrongful path when he shot Moore another glance before being taken down by Courtiers and clergy alike._

_Thomas Cromwell stood in front of the beaten Friar, snarling with malice. "You will be sewn into a sack and thrown into the River Thames if you don't hold your damn tongue!"_

_Peto did not seem to care, he rebuked valiantly to Cromwell. "Make those threats to your Courtiers. As for us" He looked down to his feet and up again to other fellow Friars who had remained silent during the whole ordeal, "we take no account of those threats, since we know very well that the way to Heaven can be in any way possible. Ha!" and he was quickly taken away by the King's soldiers to a fate that just as he foresaw, would take him to heaven in any way possible._

_Henry, her husband and lover turned abruptly as they pushed the Friar away, to stare at Moore, as if suspecting some treason or complicity in his part to the Friar's insults. But Moore passively as always, gave the King a passionless gaze and remained silent. The next he turned to was his wife, Alice Moore. But she too remained calm, yet unlike his mentor; it was not a calm state that rooted in passiveness, but rather in hatred._

_Anne, minutes after they all left the chapel, left with her husband but not before casting a longing look to that angered and bitter woman –Alice. Why had she been so interest in looking down on her? Was she looking in sympathy to a woman who was unloved and beaten by her husband's revelation that he was growing tired of her … or, was she looking down on her future, a few years from now given whom she married?_

_--_

She let one hand slid around her belly, slowly caressing her stomach as if telling her child to rejoice and be born safely so she too could be safe, and his elder sister.

Then she sat next to her bed, once again empty -and after praying for her safety -she wept.

* * *

**1536, March 2****nd****.**

**Whitehall:**

Nan and Madge were entertaining themselves by playing several rounds of cards, outside of their Queen's chambers. The Queen had retired to bed early; it was the fifth time this week. She and His Majesty were not of bright terms yet. Some of her ladies dared not to voice their thoughts, but it was less likely they were ever going to speak again if Anne's temper kept getting in the way.

At first Henry had shown a kind gesture to Anne that it had been his fault for his folly with Mistress Jane Seymour, who continued to be in Anne's service despite her protests she be thrown out –the King had denied it of course, his humor turning sour that she could make such a suggestion about somebody he intended to become his Future Mistress, _if not more_.

She had cried the first nights of the affair, putting her hands on her abdomen and taking sharp breaths of air to calm herself. Nan Seville –her right hand Lady had been there all night to console her, but she couldn't console herself. She had felt a mixture of dismay and horror when she had discovered the King and Jane Seymour kissing behind her back.

Two days after she had asked Henry so many times when he came to see how she was, "How could you've done this? Why did you have to do this? Why Henry …" Her anger began to turn into wails of helplessness as the King had embraced her, and she had –after a while- relented, burying her face in his shoulder as her tears kept coming, hot and seemingly hollow to his care.

As Nan picked another deck of cards, the door opened to reveal Mistress Seymour entering the Queen's outer chambers. She skirted them as she had done so with Anne before, prior to being discovered with the King.  
Nan nodded to her in the same manner, she did not send any pleasantries or kind words to Jane. There was hardly anything to be spoken between them, they were both different and it was clear they were serving different Masters now.

Jane was her own Mistress; she had made that clear by the King's interest in her. She was special. No other Lady would hold the King's attentions for so long, unless _she_ was ambitious. And Jane Seymour was no ordinary Lady or Mistress. She was no Mistress at all, that was certain; the King had every intention to make her his Mistress yet she refused his every advances, _"just like Anne had"_ thought Nan as she surveyed the young Seymour girl.

Henry's initial devotion to Anne could not condone many of his guilty verdicts, it did not absolve Anne either from watching them and not doing anything, but then again one must ask himself what else could she have done that would not have endangered her life?

Henry was a malleable force of nature, that could go either way of the balance, pray tell that Henry would have never slaughtered those who were loyal to him, but the people still kept in him that he already punished an old member of his Council for speaking against his_ Authority _as_ Head of the Church_. Nobody could predict with one hundred percent accuracy what Henry could do next. Their Country was in the hands of a Monarch who was susceptible to everybody minus himself, what he really wanted -no one knew. But it was easy to predict what he no longer needed.

All his life he had been raised as the next potential King of England, he never had true friends to keep him company; his only friends were Margaret Beaufort and his grandfather Henry VII. The boy must have felt thrilled at knowing his old captors and source of his misery were no longer there to prevent him from having fun, and having ascended to the throne so young you could not expect a boy to take things seriously.

No matter how strict was the Household in which he was raised, he was still a child and as any at age seven, the last thing children need or think about is politics. They just want to have fun, have games, parties in this case banquets for themselves and others. All children want to be seen and heard, and when you are the King of England and seven years old, you want others to like you, you do not put yourself to meditate that they might be seeking your company because of the Crown you are wearing.

Katherine of Aragon always made sure she told Henry to be gentle to his servants, he always had and she did not need to tell him twice to show humility and prudence to his 'subjects'. On the first day, on a Tournament that was to be held in his honor; he called the Friar who had come to show his blessing to him and his mother earlier that day -and "paid" him a sum of 1000 pounds. _"For your Goodwill, _**but**_ I will see that it is use for the monasteries and for the Universities down in Rochester Friar Noir"_

The King's mother had been so proud of her son, but she did not show it. And often Wriothlesley, such of others of his time thought that if the Princess Dowager had at least shown affection for her son's virtues, in response England would not have to be suffering for the sorrow of one Prince whose love was denied.

Nan sighed as Madge indulged on her to their game of cards. Honesty in Nan was something only used for convenience, much like her Mistress the Queen Anne Boleyn-Tudor; but recently with the events happening at their expense she thought that a little honesty now and then would help to settle their conscience.

It was quiet. It was never this quiet. There was always some activity, some dance, something that kept the Ladies of the Queen alive and enthusiastic than with the boredom many had to deal. Their Mistress was asleep that much they knew. But why had she slept so much? She had never slept so long before, not even when the King had his many mistresses flaunted in her face at a dinner table or in his Bed Chambers.

But it seemed that this time was different, just then as if all the women's thoughts were synchronized, they turned at Jane. Could this Mistress replace their current Mistress in the blink of an eye –like it was done before? Isabella, many of the ladies were young and hardly knew her. But some who did said that she was often like her mother, Joanne the Mad – the King's mother's sister and his Aunt. So sad and always exploding with self hatred, because of her husband's ongoing affairs behind his back, much like it was now being done with Anne.

Jane took the seat that Nan was formally occupying and was now opposite to Madge. The elder girl and cousin of Anne Boleyn had no personal quarrels with the Mistress Seymour. She had always been nice to the girl ever since she first came into service.

In a way, Madge had taken the girl under her wing and her protection. In public they were just Ladies in Anne Boleyn's Court, but in private, a bustling friendship had been developing between them. These past weeks their conversations were put on hold as Madge's cousin hatred for Jane was becoming more apparent, and the girls that had kept each other safe were now bound to speak only when in private and Nan was not watching.

But a game of cards … was no problem. No problem at all. What harm could a simple game cause to the lives of these two girls?

The past frailties of Madge had never gone into question at Court, and maybe because she was the Queen's cousin and no one was to speak ill of family, or maybe because her father still had some influence to cover up all the rumors of his daughter's affairs. As she watched Jane with her passive face, spread out the deck; she emptied her worries and began the play of the century with her new friend Seymour.

As the game continued, Madge noticed Nan who was next to the Queen's door. It had appeared like Nan heard something from the inside of Her Majesty's chamber, but she dismissed it as Jane called for her next move.

"Your turn" said Jane patiently.

Madge's turn was proven pointless. Jane was going to loose this one, like many times over and Madge did not want to hurt her feelings _again_. The young Lady-In-Waiting hid her deck and called it a tie. Her opponent was not satisfy and made her hand the cards over to her.

"Two Queens Madge. You win." Jane stated.

Nan went to pick up another deck of cards to shuffle them, until she stopped dead in her tracks. A piercing scream had erupted from the Queen's Bedchamber where she resided. There faces all turned to worry, Madge as Jane leapt to their feet, knocking over the table to tend to the Queen. Nan first arriving to the door, threw it open and what she found surprised not only her, but the rest of Anne's Ladies.

Madge put a hand near her mouth; the girl looked sick and about to throw up. Jane Seymour stared in horror at the Queen, and soon other Ladies that came in joined her. Nan's screams and Madge's joined in unison with those of the Queen.

There were screams echoing all through the halls of her Quarters. They were all scared and terrified, but no more than Anne herself as she cried in desperation, clutching her belly with one hand, and with the other dragging it underneath her stained nightdress.

"**My Boy! My ****boy****! … **_**my**_** boy!"** Anne screamed as she held out her hand to Nan, stained in blood.

A large pool of scarlet blood was formed around her, staining not only her nightgown but the white linens and the floor beneath her bed. Her screams were reached from outside her Chambers; Nan grabbed Mistress Seymour with her strong grip and ordered her to go fetch Dr. Linacre quickly!

The main reason for Anne's cause of distress did not need to be told twice what to do; she stormed out from the room immediately to find the Physician.

Anne meanwhile kept sobbing and moaning, "No! No! … _no._" and while she writhed and twisted in pain, clutching her belly, hollow and devoid of any emotion, her tiny and only hope of survival, her unborn child, stained with the blood of her and his -was _miscarried_.

"_no"_

Henry woke up from his dream, drenched in cold sweat. He wasn't sure why he had particularly had that dream, but he was sure to find out soon.

It didn't take long for the news to reach him. His wife miscarried.

Henry hurried down the corridor, to his wife's Bedchamber, crutching his leg in pain. The enchanting little Queen that had before coming to him as noble, had rekindled for him the embers of his lost love for women and revitalized the blaze of passion for love that had been kept at bay for so many years in his reign because of one, his mother and second reason, his "concubine" who pretended for so many years to be his wife when she had sired a bastard child with another Prince in Denmark. Now she was nothing more than a nuisance, a source of humiliation, revealing all his dreams to be hollow just as she was.

The world was well rid of her … and if she lost … _his Prince _then out to the fire with her and her brother! Out to the fire already! -his conscience said, her sweetness had once been motive for pursuing but no longer, he had found now true beauty, and true modesty, on the likes of which his _Queen_ had never had!

Anne had become a nuisance, a past fling that had brought him nothing but shame and civil disobedience throughout his Kingdom.

He had become enemies with his cousin, the Emperor, Charles. And with another Charles –he risked a friendship, for a _woman. _A vile woman, a witch who had set him up with her spells to make him fall in love. _And it had worked, I fell for her, I even kissed her knees and feet as I begged her to be my Mistress … I went behind my daughter's back to turn her into a bastard!_

_My God what have I done? What have I done to my poor neglected daughter? I left her at the mercy of a witch and common fishwife, all she had to endure … because of me. I am as guilty as my mother; I caused her irremediable harm … how can I ever repay my guilt and show my face again?_

--

**_Queen's Bedchamber:_**

Anne kept wailing, defeated and submitted by the physical and emotional pain of miscarrying her savior and Christ. The pool of scarlet blood that had spread earlier from beneath her linens and nightdress had been blackened by time, and she no longer shed any blood. Dr. Linacre told her to be at ease, that it was all over now, she should rest -it was best for all of them if she wanted her health back.

For Anne there was no more world without her Christ. Her last card to be drawn had been wasted. Now she was not any worth, only a Queen deprived of a healthy womb to give him sons –like he wanted. It was not fair that she should suffer.

This was not supposed to happen. Anne burst into tears as she heard the Doctor telling her there was nothing to be done.

Anne burst into hot tears of anger as she clutched the sheets of her bed, still wet from the blood of her unborn

It was _curious_ how her fanaticism in the anti-papist faith had droved many to leave their hatred and anger of God, for their submissiveness to their newly crowned Queen. Yet, she knew that many –when Henry had set out all _of them _to swear the Oath- had not looked at her in Court with the same warmth and friendly gestures as they did when Isabella of Hapsburg was Queen.

They had all cheered for her when she married, been there for her when she bore their new Princess, and mourned alongside her –when their Prince was lost. What a sad day that had been for everybody. The King had not made a public announcement of the fact, yet the people knew by servants or other means that their Prince of Wales had been lost.

Anne had dreaded that day when it was announced that her son had died. She had been praying after the news that it was not true, but when reality stroke as they brought his little body –she went out to call his caretakers and demand an explanation for her son's death. They all begged had begged forgiveness afterwards. Mumblings with nervous faces as they humbly bowed to her, terrified and scared, they claimed it was an act of God and there were was no involvement in their part. The Prince had just died of natural causes. He had been one of the many victims of the sweating –or so they claimed. Anne did not long for their forgiveness or for Henry's approval to find whether or not he had died for natural causes. She had beat them all, almost to the point of death. –Swearing under her breath that her face would be the last thing they would see on this Earth.

After that -Anne had suffered another miscarriage. It had been during the middle of Bishop Fisher and Thomas Moore's imprisonment in the White Tower.

Henry had then acquired a grudging respect for her as an individual. He discovered that with the absence of his mother and father in his live, he could converse now more freely with Anne, almost as once he had confided in his beloved grandmother; Elizabeth Tudor.

He visited her at Whitehall or Greenwich, wherever she resided when he was usually absent, to converse, and comfort her –in any way possible. Approving the changes she had made on the Palaces of Whitehall and Greenwich and her capabilities to handle the religious turmoil in the Country.

Though the phrase "May Queen", been whispered still by some –those who had not dissented- in Court had given her some comfort; it transmuted into laughter and bitter failure when her father had come to her chambers and remind her of her loss _meant for them._

"_What did you do?"_

"_What did you do to kill the baby Anne?" Her father bellowed. Teeth clenched together –after his accusations in anger at his youngest daughter._

_He had come into her Private Chambers earlier to see how she was coping, but the minute he set foot to her room, he became disappointed at the sorry state he saw her in._

_Anne stared numbly, a wave of emotions passing through her and finally she became shocked from her father's accusation. Her hands were shaking, her face was still pale and there were purple bags from under her eyes –a clear sign that she had been crying all night._

"_Father! I did nothing!" She said simply. Seeing her father's disbelief, her reasons turned to pleas. "I don't know what I did … or … wh-what happened. Father, I was so careful!"_

_Thomas Boleyn banged his fist on one of the walls. Finally seeing his daughter's troubled state; he sighed, crossing his arms and frowning -he turned his eyes in her direction; they were cold and icy-blue like hers, showing no mercy not even for the state his daughter was in. "Not careful enough." He said somberly._

_He moved in closer to the bed where she rested, terrifying slow pace he said. "We must _all_ be careful now. But_** you**_, especially not to loose the King's love …" he added then "or everything is lost. Everything! _**For all of us**_**!**__"_

England at last could laugh and mock Anne Boleyn all they wanted, for in the state she was; everybody would burst out laughing to see their prankster and cause for misery being torn apart so quickly from her _Christ_.

"No!" Anne sniffed as she kept waiting in vain for the nightmare to be over. That's all it was, a nightmare. But how could it be when the pain she felt in her heart was so real, and irreparable from the loss she had just suffered.

The Queen shouted for Dr. Linacre to come, but much to her horror, yet comfort, in her door, stood Henry.

--

Madge, Nan and other Ladies curtsied to Henry, whose faces furrowed with angst and lament. Henry could hear from the Outer Chamber of his _wife_'s bedroom her lament and angry wailing. Controlling himself, he mustered all the patience he ever had to draw to see his wife. He pushed the door of her Private Room open and strode in.

The state his wife was in seemed not to matter to him, as her last form of attempts to remain sympathetic and in his good graces, showing how sorry she was for _their_ loss.

Anne tried to stop her tears as she saw him in the middle of the room staring coldly at her. Her body began to shudder as he spoke, "You've … _lost_ my boy." The words were so hard for Henry.

_"Joanne calm down ... what did you do?" I asked to my distressed wife, she was still bleeding between her legs. "Ahhhhhh!!" She screamed as she gathered all the blood from between her legs._

His blood boiled as he saw his _'wife'_ crumbling form, shuddering as she picked up her handkerchief to clean up her legs from the remnants the baby had left on her nightgown.

The Queen's form was nothing but disgust to Henry who –with full determination- sharpened his tone of voice, "I cannot speak of it … f-for the lost is so great" He said coldly. "But I see now that God will not give me any male children. When you are up, I will speak to you."

Henry turned to leave when her voice stopped him.

"It is **not** my fault!"

"_You … How could you do this to me?" _

Henry looked back, incredulously, at her. It felt so much like his nightmare.

"You have no one to blame but **yourself!**" Anne said, _"Because_ the love I bare you is so great, I was distressed to see you and that wench Jane Seymour whoring around behind my back!" Said the _Anne; whose heart ached under her hitching breathing as her _Henry _kept staring at her numbly_ "My heart broke when I saw you loved others … others."

_"You! you blame me for the loss of this child ... my boy ... but there is no greater blame here than you, it was the stress that I found out you had wrenched with that whore that made me fall ill and deliver too early! ... How does it feel knowing you caused this?"_

_"When you are well and in your mental functions or _**sane**_ Joanne, you and I will speak, until then ... get well. I am sorry." _

"I said I will speak to you when you are well" With that Henry left the room, through clenched teeth and angry pace he stormed from her apartments and into his own study.

Anne had drawn the last drop of water to Henry's glass of tolerance.

Cromwell and Chapuys stood outside the Queen's chambers as they saw Henry storm out in clear outrage. They both had curtsied Henry who was in a quick hurry to get away that he did not acknowledge their presence.

"Now he has lost his _savior_"

Cromwell did not reply to his _colleague_, he chose to follow His King instead inside.

The King stood motionless in his study; the silence in the room had been profound. Broken only by Henry's hitched breathing he turned to his second hand, Cromwell and with a voice close to a murmur, as if he started an intone prayer, carefully coached his knees buckled as he said.

"I made this marriage to _**her**_ seduced by Witchcraft. And for that reason I consider it to be null and void, the evidence that God will not permit us to have any male issue" The King, their Master and Cromwell's as well, who had stifled many, mastering an iron hand against his enemies for speaking ill of the _Lady_ Boleyn in the distant past, now inexorably, was convinced –his life needed to move on.

The reign of the boy-King had begun with glory, and already belonged to history; Henry VIII's true reign was just about to begin.

"So I believe now" he declared "that I might take _yet –another _wife."

* * *

_**1536,**_** March 3****rd**

_**Greenwich:**_** Conference Room**

* * *

_She opened one of the blankets where most of the bloodstain marks were, what she saw before her was a horrendous and appalling sight._

In the last word, was a note he had never expected to hear before from his physician. A nuance of pleading so that he could exclude his present wife of all _faults_ he was convinced were true.

The Royal physician placed the fetus back into the large bowl of water. The apple not falling far from the tree, the son had been placed right next to his father, _his would-be father._

Henry did not react to the Physician's words, even if he heard him he preferred they never reached his ears. He could have already pictured the child, tall and strong, lean with muscles and with dark complexion –_like her_-, and eyes as cold and eager for battle as he had been when he returned from his campaign of war against France. He had put the example of twelve year old boy possessing more courage than all his English troops. He had moved with his men into the battlefield, demonstrating true loyalty and compromise to the lives of his subjects.

_It was not the sight of a natural brother or sister but that of a monster. His face all distorted and with no eyes, the baby had no eyes and his mouth was all destroyed, like it had been hacked in little pieces!!_

_Margaret let out a whimper and calmly gave the little creature -__if __**it**__ could be called such a thing__- to the maid who took it away as soon as it was handed to her. She barely heard the footsteps behind her, only looked at the sight that kept replaying over and over through her mind._

There was something assimilating fear to wonder in the Doctor's face, like he wanted to keep all true from him, something important, something that could turn the wheel –depending who was the spinner- of fortune of Anne … to her formal rival, Jane Seymour.

"The child had the appearance –of a male. Age, four months old, now this I have confirmed it with _my _other physicians, many of whom I could show you they bare at you and your daughter, nothing more than respect.  
Perhaps after all, the Queen's miscarriage was a blessing in disguise."

_Servants running … cries, yelling, curses –and that face! The face of a dead brother with no soul and life to him. His parents would have been thrilled if the creature could be born natural as all babies did, months after, and healthy, but it suffered from the bad omen of being born dead and without the natural features of a healthy boy._

_Her father's last chance of having a child had been ripped apart, a boy, a __horrendous__ boy that now lay dead and was about to be buried in the deepest corner of the Earth where nobody could gaze at it's horrendous and disgusting malevolent face._

_She silently walked without making a noise to her parent's bedroom. Inside was the crying figure of her mother with a bloodstain dress from the bottom of her legs where she had delivered._

Henry started at him with no care in the world of what could happen next, war, famine or religious uproar. It all seemed the same, now when he has no male heir.

"Majesty" The Physician bowed, lifting the bowl and leaving Henry alone to deal with the madness.

* * *

_**[Past]**_

_**More Household:**_

_She was sobbing and weeping for the child she had just lost, her father -a man of composure and calm demeanor- did not cry but sobbed harder and painfully for the loss of his child. All of his life he had been waiting for a way of redemption where all of his sins could be washed over, and no longer worry about the weight of his conscience trailing after his guilt. _

_Now _all_ chances were lost._

* * *

All chances were lost; he waited to comment to Brandon of the current events, only until the Dr. Linacre left.

Brandon gently bowed his head to his best friend, seeing the sadness that no one could see in his eyes he told Harry he was sorry, but that didn't matter. –Henry still felt the same. Gloomy and angered that all this time he had betrayed, murdered and even squashed the people's souls, those to whom he trusted the most, to serve under his Queen's whim. It left him lost with the memories of old friends, and most importantly; it left him in regretted shame that he could not take back what he said to them long ago.

Many sleepless nights Henry must have told himself why he had to do it. It was necessary he said it to himself many times, they were enemies of his new Empire, they forfeited their lives for not accepting his wife and daughter as first legitimate wife and heir respectively, and they failed to recognize him Head of the Church –that was what drew Henry over the edge with them.

He had no reason, a King of England born by God to the nobles of old Houses, descending from the old Edwards and with Castilian blood running in his veins, to regret his past acts. They were all fair when he signed them, then why now our King felt so remorseful, so regretful of the old friend he had not spared in the battlefield?

For who was the cause for the break of Rome, the burning of old 'heretics' and the murderer behind the treasonous acts signed no other than by his own hand? Who was it that incurred the wrath unto himself by marrying a witch, and being the victim of her secret spells and incantations?

What had Henry done? –He asked himself.

"Charles." He acknowledged his friend standing from behind him. "There is much we need to do."

The Duke of Suffolk's hand reached his old friend's back. Both men embraced each other as Henry voiced the troubles of his conscience to him.

* * *

Gambling with lives had become the Seymour's Family new hobby. The second oldest of the Seymour clan came to the Great Hall and paused, watching the small children gathered around the Court. They were engaged in a game to see who danced the best.  
Edward was surprised to see that one of them was no other than the little _Princess_ _of Wales –_Elizabeth. The other with striking black hair as the night sky outside the Palace's windows, was Thomas_ Fitzroy_.

It seemed that the children knew not of other's mother or their quarrels. A dance also made them forget, that despite their seemingly close friendship, they were born to be rivals.

He gambled with the life of his own sister, why should he not gamble with the souls of two innocent children?

Edward walked into the office of Thomas Cromwell whose face was a mixture of apprehension, yet hope at Seymour's presence. "Mr. Secretary." Edward said, numbly as ever, showing not one drip of emotion or sensitivity to the matter at hand.

Cromwell barely smiled; acknowledging favor to Edward Seymour was a hard task. "We don't know each other very well, but we shall. I have every confidence. It is His Majesty's pleasure to appoint you a Gentleman of the Privy Chamber. In that capacity you will attend His Majesty daily, and as he sees fit to use you. It is a privilege" He paused. "_Sir_ Edward."

Edward turned to Cromwell, showing somewhat surprise at his last sentence. "Sir Edward?" He asked, baffled.  
"Not now … but the King is always in need of new _acquaintances_; I am sure your sister knows that if you know what's good for her … or _for_ yourself and family members"

--

Now that Princess Mary had heard the news of her stepmother's _recent_ miscarriage, things could not have gone for the better for her. She prayed to the statue of the Virgin, that God now might show the light into her father's eyes and uncover the veil that had blinded him for so long.

The ladies in Elizabeth's Household, who had already walked away from her care; spun around, sending their wary looks to the former Princess. "Are you forgetting your duties _Lady_ Mary" One of them said, emphasizing Mary's degradation as she addressed her slowly as Lady.

Mary Tudor paid no heed and slowly walked away from them.

* * *

**April**

**Whitehall Palace**

_**(evening)**_

* * *

"_Ambassadeur!"_

Was it sadness in her voice? Desperate to seek some supporters in Court, Anne had turned out to the man who could help her in her direst; Ambassador of France.  
Nonetheless; the Ambassador turned toward her, and seeing the still-Queen of Henry, he bowed deeply. "Madame"

Anne urgently approached him "Monsieur Ambassadeur" She whispered with a perfect French accent, but it was only normal when the present Queen of England was known to have more French etiquette in her than English, spending too much of her formative years in France, the Ambassador was not surprised. "I beg off you to tell King Francis. He must be persuaded _somehow_ to accept the marriage of his son, the Dauphin or the Duke of Orleans; _it doesn't matter!_ To our daughter please, Elizabeth so that I may not be the object of the King's madness."

"I see myself very near that, even before our marriage, I need to make it clear that there is no other pretender to my daughter's throne than Mary. Her eyes move everywhere Ambassador, if the King Francis knows what's best he will vouch for me." She said, suddenly footsteps echoing through the Hall of the emptied Court at midday made her hurry. "I cannot speak but tell His Majesty, and my utmost gratitude goes to him and his sons, please as you love me don't make the King's conscience do his bidding!"

The Ambassador retained some of his calm, though the Queen probably knew that he was taken aback from the urgent state she was in. The Ambassador knew alright, but it would be too much to hope only on him, did she not have other friends she might turn to in her hour of need? Of course not, but his mind kept telling him that he was already in shaky ground with the King of England; he certainly did not need the King of France suspecting him.

But nonetheless out of his love and affection, he responded with delicacy. "I will see what I can do _Your Highness!"_ He bowed deeply and both left.

My Lady, the Queen who had once been a _Lady of low rank _compared to Isabella of Hapsburg, born a Princess, granddaughter to the Emperor Maximilian at the time, was now in dire need for help. No one else could help her but the Ambassador, he was the only one who could reach Francis I in time and make her plight known. If not, then she was alone, blowing in the wind like particles of dust.

That's what awaited all those who disappointed Henry, one way or the other the King was now the giver and taker of life. God had a name now. Scholars and Muslims could debate the true nature of His name -_who_ was _him,_ and what was his true calling, but Anne had just discovered it. He was Henry.

God was Henry. Anne stifled a giggle from her lips as she eyed her ladies. They were all talking to Jane, Henry's wrench, now it was the time for her to find out if she was a wench.

* * *

**1536, April 16****th****.**

**Whitehall Palace:**

_**[Dawn]**_

* * *

Jane was playing with her locket. Madge was not talking to her, she sent looks of sympathy and regret to Jane; but there was no need for her friend to that. She understood why. Anne was there.

"The Seymours have taken over Cromwell's rooms here at the Palace, and I hear Nicholas Carew one of her sympathizers, is to be made candidate to Order of the Garter."

Anne turned to Jane, with fire blazing her heart and stunned. "_Cromwell's rooms_? That leads right to the King's bedchambers!" Nan nodded and left Anne's side to return to her game of cards.

She kept herself busy by looking at her golden necklace. It was a sacred locket that her Lancelot had given her, to keep with her always, close to her heart.

Anne suddenly came from behind and she immediately hid it away from sight. But it was too late! Anne had already seen it and she shouted at Jane to turn it over. "It is of no importance … _to you, __**Your Grace**__." _

"_Give __**it**_ to _**me**_!" Anne ordered but Jane ignored her orders. Tired of her civil disobedience, Anne snatched the locket from behind, scratching Jane's pale hands. What she watched set her heart on fire.

Jane got to know _personally_ Anne's wrath for the first time. The girl caressed her cheek where her _Mistress_ had slapped her, and left an imprint on her. Yet Jane, strong and cold as her brother, she did not cry or beg for forgiveness. She was a Seymour, of stronger and nobler lineage than what this _fishwife_ Queen was. She would not lower herself bowing to a Jezebel, that much Jane honored her roots.

_Unlike Anne –_Jane thought greedily her rival's ring on her finger, stained with the blood she got from her cheek.  
Anne turned away from Jane, and with some satisfaction after she watched Jane flinch, she walked away.

Madge who was near, once she was sure Anne left, picked up the golden necklace and hurriedly toss it to Jane. "Keep it."

* * *

**April 20****th****.**

**--**

_Jane_ felt lost. Her love had just told her that he didn't want to see her anymore. And she understood why. It was because of that fishwife and Mistress Boleyn, who was causing enough hell to Jane's life and to her family by humiliating them, everyday making awful remarks to their faces and their friends.

The next pretender to the throne nodded to His Majesty and left him. Off to go to Wolf-Hall where her brother and father were to stay, at least until the storm could wear off from the King's temples.

Then as he promised to her privately, he would get married to her and she would be Queen, next to nothing more than happiness.

… _Happiness_

* * *

Nicholas Carew on April of the 23rd had been made member of Order of the Garter, it was said he would be a candidate but **she** never thought it possible! That position was only for people of importance, a relative or a favored Courtier of the King … _or Queen._

Her brother, George had aspired for that position ever since she became Queen of England, and now it had been denied by the man who promised to please her and make her happy in everything she wanted. How was it possible that her will turns hollow, next to that _simpleton_ and pale Jane, who next to nothing was a mere commoner.

A usurper! That's what she was, a usurper and a pretender to the Crown _of_ a 'true' noble born Lady who was descended from Edward I and possessed nobler lineage. By that reason, if the King really wanted to set her aside, he would have to work hard to do it!

Her child would rule a better England than him, and if he ever got a son from that nun-like's womb, that is, if he really intended to marry her, and divide more into factions what he already had before in his Kingdom; then so be it! He would never compare next to _her_ Elizabeth.  
She had never before felt such devotion for somebody, or someone in her life. She laughed as she admitted that she had only sought Henry for her family's favor, never because of his love or his interest of her to him. She had even laughed and paraded her jewels around the Court, even spat to Isabella –the same way Jane had done to her- that it was none of her business to ask where her jewels came from.

Now she was so deeply in love with him, that she wanted to convince herself that he would never do anything to harm her physical body. They had Elizabeth, and he loved her, paraded her through the Court, even made his eldest daughter –once too his Golden Pearl like Elizabeth- a maid in her Household. What more could he show, but love, devotion and care to his only child?

_April 17__th__._

_Thomas Boleyn devised a new plan to get into the King's favor. His daughter had foolishly lost his by loosing a son … again for God knows how many times it was now; he lost count after the death of poor babe Arthur. He came to her bedchambers, with the same hurry, but in that hurry now it was included a desperate attempt that the King could still be under his daughter's fingers, guarantying her security and his._

"_It seems that our best card is supporting the Emperor _whether you like it or not!_ It is our only hope he might spare_ you_ or_ us."_ Said her father, Anne seemed annoyingly disinterested. To her father it seemed she cared more about her fashions and her latest headdresses she ordered from France, than the situation they were facing as a Family._

_The former Ambassador to the King took her hands, and held them roughly, pulling her to a corner, not afraid to cause her harm, for what was their harm to cause when her womb was as hollow as his heart. "You will listen! He Imperial Ambassador is to be received and you will kiss him on his cheek Anne as a sign of friendship, even comment brusquely on the French, how they are hypocrite, shallow and treacherous. You hate them Anne."  
His daughter mouthed "No" but her father's hold on her body tightened, he squeezes her cheeks like she was a little girl being reprimanded.  
"_We_ have come so far!_ No one_ is allowed to destroy us!" No one!" Do__** you understand**__?"_

_Anne did not show any signs of fear to her father, and for that he was proud, but she didn't bare the same strong and defiant figure. She was more defeated than defiant. "Yes father" She said finally to him and he nodded, turning his gaze away he let her go._

_--_

_April 18__th__._

_Whitehall Palace: Court Room._

_There were dances and cheers, their new "friends" from afar had come with high spirits to greet the Queen, some Anne noticed her saluted her with pleasure, other with amusement, but none with trace of regret or envy. How could she cause them to envy her?_

_She had once been in the most desired spot, out of all women he had chosen her and she got a Crown. But now? Where was she? Everyone pitied her, and those who didn't hid their laughter and their mockeries, as well as their offenses. Nobody wanted to be the Queen of England anymore; those who did were foolish and ignorant. Didn't they know that one was dead, probably accused still of a whore and wench when she first wed the King, the other about to be killed for miscarrying a boy? –That's what they all said, and their words could not be anymore true. She was a wench, Isabella had been. And she, well she _had _already_ lost_ many of His Majesty's boys, sickness or in abortion it didn't matter, it mattered only whose womb the baby came from._

_Chapuys, despised by the Queen and her family alike, entered the Court like a champion, eager to receive his reward for his good service.  
He saw the Queen's father, the Earl and her brother, Lord Rochford, he greeted them both. "Excellency, you are most welcome to the Court!" George said with excitement, Anne however no far from them in her chair, could hint a trace of sarcasm dripping from her brother's voice. It was not noted however by the Ambassador; who had more important matters at hand than care for a doomed Queen's brother ill feeling directed at him. "My Lord." The Imperial Ambassador respectfully replied, followed by a cool gesture toward the elder of the Boleyns._

_Cromwell, the sniveling little coward –in Anne's eyes- moved to greet Chapuys as well. It was certainly not the best of days. _

_Now it had come Anne's turn. She and Henry passed through Chapuys, being announced formally by the Chamberlain of their presence. Chapuys bowed deeply, yet there was no sign of respect in his bow, she was still a fishwife like him, like with Jane. Anne looked at him directly, he responded with a death glare. The Boleyn men smiled to the happy couple and bowed to them before leaving. They later bowed to the Emperor's ambassador, who Wyatt and others behind noted he did not return the smile or the bow._

How could that spy continue to laugh behind her back? He and that insufferable girl, Mary, were the thorns that always prickled her spine. Now they were sure to be conspiring, along with Seymour supporters to dethrone her.

Her father was right; they had worked so hard to achieve **this**. She would not let his efforts or _hers_ go to waste, just because of a pale girl's ambition to get to where she was.

When this was over, Anne convinced herself that she would curse Henry, and curse Jane, both for ever turning their backs against their Mistress!

* * *

**April 23**

**Queen's Chambers:**

**--**

Everyone who knew that Carew as well as Edward Seymour, was counseling _dear_ Jane; shut their mouths when they saw their ruler and Lord enter the Court. They were once free to speak their minds, now they hardly spoke at all, but wishes and compliments to his Majesty's looks, to his Majesty's hair, etc, etc … to his boots they licked without notice, and with pleasure, their dignity? Ha! What about dignity if you could have all the riches in England, if not the world now that the monastery houses were going to those in favor of the King?

* * *

Later that day as the Courtiers squabbled with themselves, inside Whitehall, where the Queen resided with her Ladies. Jane had returned to Court, against her father's protest and her brother's logic, she had done so because in a letter addressed to the King she had replied that she feared no death but a thousand lives without him by her side. Moved by this, the King had welcomed her back, and the other Courtiers in favor of the Reformation, while they looked in fear and contempt to Jane –they had to bite their tongues for any insult to the King's_ most gracious Lady._ She was his _true English _rose, truer that every other to walk on the face of the Earth.

Jane tagged along with the Queen for the day in her Private Chambers. The door burst open with an angered and bitter Jane. This was Jane Rochford, sister to her brother and sister-in-law to the Queen, what heaven she was supposed to be in.

Anne seated on her Bed, with Mark right next to her. She looked up to him and noted sadness in his movements, even by the mellow tune he played. "Mark" She addressed him. "Why are you sad?"  
Mark shook his head and then turned away.  
"It doesn't matter" He said in a melodramatic voice. He didn't notice Anne's feeling as much as he took care of his own, when she felt a tug of embarrassment that he would speak to her so freely, instead of addressing her by her Royal Title as protocol demanded of every subject. "As an inferior person Mark Smeaton, Sir I demand you address me as your status obligates you. You are not a nobleman nor have Royal blood in your veins to speak free."  
Mark's expression as his voice didn't change, but before he could reply to his best _Royal_ friend, Nan entered her chambers, bowing low to her Mistress before addressing her.  
"What is it?" Asked Anne gently, emphasizing her authority so it could be well known for Mark _for the next occasion. _  
"Lady Rochford is here." She said. "She wished to see Her Majesty immediately, it seemed urgent by the tone of her voice."

Anne gestured to George's wife, standing in her Outer Chamber to greet her with friendliness. Jane did not return the bow or smiled at her, she came for her husband. "Lady Rochford hush, do not speak these_ things_ here."  
Jane's gaze was turned to the musician Mark Smeaton before pleading with the Queen again, coldly. "You do not understand Your Grace; I only want that he treats me properly like the King is with _you._"

At that moment, Anne's nerves flared up with surprise. She saw Jane Seymour sitting rather _alone_ by the window, with that same dreamy look she had on her eyes when she first courted the King; she turned to the other Jane, Rochford and in a loud voice so everybody could hear her, she said, "Let me tell you something _Lady Rochford._ The _King_ as he is called cannot satisfy a woman. He has neither the skill nor the virility."

After saying the King was incapable of working his seed properly; she left everyone behind retiring to her Inner chamber, laughing madly at their stunned faces. Leaving also behind, a hurt Seymour girl behind, and another Jane, more enraged and determined to start her battle.

--

On that same day, before the night glazed over the dark sky and the stars showed their faces to light the forests, men of the King's guard showed up and arrested Smeaton. Beating him near a pulp they brought him into one of the interrogation cells where Cromwell and Richard Rich lay.

Smeaton shouted to Cromwell enraged. "Mr. Cromwell, what is the meaning of this?"

Cromwell said nothing but merely led his feet to walk nearby Richard, who took in turn a handful of papers Cromwell was carrying, involving hard proof of the accused.

"I am accused of what? … I assure you I never lay a finger on Her Majesty's b-"  
Mark's shouts were cut short by Cromwell's fist being slammed on the interrogation table. "You have never been one for Authority Mr. Smeaton, so I ask you again, have you and the Queen ever engaged in carnal relations behind the King's back?"

Mark desperately pleaded to let him go, he had nothing to do there. He was oblivious of who could accuse him, a musician of humble beginnings who had never caused, or had any reason to cause any nobleman any harm.

"You have not answered my question Mr. Smeaton"

Smeaton had nothing to say but plead for justice, and a fair trial to his poor health. This enraged Cromwell further and he told the guards to submit Smeaton under treason, only then could Cromwell gather enough evidence to convince the Queen of treason.  
This was so hard for Cromwell, who was already on a toll for his soul and his purse. He admitted he hated the Queen ever since her outburst for giving one of the monasteries in Rochester to two Courtiers, but she left him no choice. Yet, something within Cromwell, maybe a tug of his conscience, something that was not him, more Moore, let him to wonder on whether he was doing the right thing by supplanting one Queen with her death.  
But it was a hard to pray when there was no honor in what he was about to do.

He looked at the Cross, at where he was. In a Church, a place he was taken as a child and often listened to fat catholic Priests give their version about what God wanted from his servants. But as he grew he saw it was not his will or the church's that dominated the people, but it was the wronged faith robbed of all its pure nature, corrupted.

He vowed never again to fall victim under the prey of religion or faith, yet he had grown attached unto the bosom of Lutheranism. It was pure, devoid of any fanaticism, yet when it was known that Luther was persecuting Jews and killing the catholic factions; he became disappointed. Could the world be nothing more than a shell, a masquerade we live in and the only profit is to profit yourself or death? Yes, the answer sounded so logical now, if he wanted to survive he had to do it, he had to deliver one more soul unto the Lord, innocent or not, it was no longer his choice to make.

* * *

**Greenwich Palace.**

**May Day: Evening.**

* * *

Smeaton had confessed, once again it had become the King's concern over his new Mistress' safety. She had to be protected at all cost … no matter what.

Jane could not attend the May Day festivities as she wished, the King voiced the dangers she could run in if the Boleyn found out how close she was to the King's heart and soul. Always clever –thought Jane sarcastically. Her love wanted so much to believe that the Kingdom was in his disposal, but truth it wasn't. Since when had he lifted a finger to truly reign, without being subjected to the will of women or men who wanted not his love or care, but rather his Crown?

She was probably no better than Anne, already she could hear people whispering; but at least she had good judgment to know how to play the game. In the end it was not about winning, or losing, it was how you played the game.

--

The action now finally came, as the means to interview one of her loves. The very one who tried to kill him? Probably, he told himself for sure, to marry her and then rule along her side with Elizabeth in her minority, then old Boleyn Senior would move as Ruler de Facto, his daughter placed under House arrest, possibly killed, and him –nobody would regret the death of King so hated, they would probably cheer at his _accidental_ death. Jane, her face was the only thing that brought him back from death when the lance had hit so close to his face. She would be treated as an outcast in Court, if she ever reached that far and considering the Boleyn faction was noble, they would try her later under her false charges; he was sure his _wife_ would see to that easily.

He had chosen under Doctor's orders, not to participate in the Joust, so he remained a spectator in one of his favorite sports.

He saw Norris moving far away as possible from him and his wife. A sensation to beat the daylights out of him swept through, but he had no choice but to restrain himself. He had already humiliated himself enough at the expense of others he once called friends, now it was going to be different, very different.

Moving aside from his wife, he turned to leave. Anne asked why, the King did not respond and left her alone to view the Sport. With the deliverer of the message by Cromwell, he was sure the time had come at last; to make things settled the way they should be.  
He pretended to show friendship to Norris, so the man could be convinced that it was of no danger riding with the King and guards. The Keeper of Privy Purse and once trusted friend of Henry rode off with him, yeomen and guards following them deep into the woods.

"Your Majesty" Norris bowed deeply, although a little bit late to Henry.

Henry smiled to Norris' gesture, laughing softly, "Oh Norris you always managed to amuse me … too good for me you are, although you not amuse me as much as the old Queen is. Smeaton just made a confession about you … It's over"

Henry's expression turned serious, while Norris turned to his Master in alarm. "No! You must be mistaken, your Majesty I assure you. This is ridiculous."

"So I am an object of ridicule" spat Henry. Norris was about to protest when Henry called, "Guards!" Several of them came behind Norris and ceased him. "You are under arrest Norris. Take him to the Tower at once! Pray Sir Norris that I just might merciful to grant you a death free of torture!"

--

Now it was George and Thomas Boleyn's turn to be nervous. Ever since his lover had been captured, arrested and beaten like a dog by the King's soldiers, George knew it was only a matter of time before they get to them.

Just what they needed! Thought Thomas Boleyn after he and George strode to an empty room. The King earlier seemed distressed, nobody needed to know why, but Thomas Boleyn in all his desperate attempts to reconcile with the King; he told His Majesty if only they, as civilized men could invest some of their spare time about the _welfare _of his daughter. He posed no threat; he said to the Earl, he told him and his son to meet him at his Chambers, just before the sunset.

Now they were here, empty handed with no King. This had to be something foolish on the King's part! This was not right, something was definitely not right and Thomas Boleyn knew it was of utmost importance to find out as quickly as possible. He told George to follow him, scared and distressed, for the first time in his life.

He and George sat on the King's Private Chambers, waiting … hoping.  
George had learned from his father never to voice his thoughts, but he couldn't help it, it was too much intake in less than a month. Their life had gone from bliss to piss. With obnoxious feeling he asked, "What is it?" Thomas Boleyn turned to his son, incredulous he could not see it when it was clear as water. "Don't you see it's over George; its over there is no other game, no other card to play, we are done. Ruined because of you and your sister and if you have some common sense … then please do us a favor, then to your sister to run away, I will meet you at the Gate, be there in five minutes or I leave you with _her_."  
This Boleyn member never got to know his father's nature, even though he was always aware of it. He had become the victim, but so was his father, and both were doing everything they could to survive. They parted their ways; two second before climbing into the Carriage that waited for them outside, dozens of Guard came running towards them, arresting them under charges of adultery, conspiring to commit murder and [to George] incest.

* * *

**(**_**1536**_**) **

**Tuesday, May 2****nd****.**

**Greenwich Palace:_ Queen's Chambers_**

* * *

Anne's tone was urgent. She held no long pleading for the strenuous type of stress, she was now in.

"Nan." She addressed her voice.  
"Yes your Majesty?"

"If anything were to happen to me, I want you to take care of my daughter. Understand me, protect her." She said steadily. There was no sadness or hint of imminent regret belonging to her voice; she knew that Nan would be a Governess and perhaps good nanny to Elizabeth. She could not be in better hands.

At that time Guard came without permission from the Queen into her Private Chambers. Her ladies and she were not startled however; they seemed to have expected it. Duke of Suffolk, Charles Brandon was the one to present himself to the Queen, showing no fear or regret. "Your Majesty is to be informed you are under arrest and is placed on White Tower, you will not be entering through Watergate, but on the Barbican Gate to spear you further humiliation ahead."

Anne nodded, "That's good."

And so they led her to her new home for the next two weeks. Anne nearly collapsed unto her knees by the time they dropped her to Master Kingston's care. She yielded to Charles Brandon and to others, on the point of drawing laughter and tears altogether to plead for the King and for her safety!

"I was crowned here first. I beseech you please, tell Him of my plight!" She cried, but her pleas were hardly listened by the men who were her enemies –in the past, present and would surely be to years to come, retaliating with her daughter against the _crimes_ she was accused of.

But the King, even if they send word to him on time before her trial to find her guilty of incest and adultery, of her plight –he would not reach to her and find her comfort under his loving arms as he had done in the past. He was beyond such distasteful sight, reveling himself in dreams of his future wife-to-be, Jane Seymour, a placid and more virtuous wife than the other two.

Why should he care about Anne, when he found his true jewel standing in front of him? Willing to obey and serve him on all things –no matter what.

King Henry, a true son of the Tudor House, could leave the fate of that wretched woman to others.

**Though** he hardly subscribed himself to the qualities of honesty and integrity in himself, he admired them in others, almost as once he had confided in his beloved love, Jane to tell of him of his problems, and she would hear him with a kind smile and without reproach. It was a nice change from Anne Boleyn, who was always angry and rebellious.

Jane was his muse, his inspiration to draw courage in the toughest times. If all of his past women could have been like Jane he would have been happy and at peace, but his upbringing was the result of unhappy women creating an unhappy child in result.

* * *

The trial of Anne Boleyn was a cynical operation, a mockery of the noblest laws of God and men, intended to have only one result; her death. There was no other way they could crown Henry's new prospect for a Queen.

And to think all of this was, because she could not give the King a son!

Poor Cranmer, while Anne was suffering from madness, and devoid of friends and allies. The Boleyn's _old ally_ lay in a difficult position. What to do? To vote or not to vote –therein was the question. He votes for Anne, she gets one friend, but he then joins her in the race to finish her off. He could not afford that, he had been faithful to Anne, and probably still was, to his daughter at least, but he could not risk his head being taken from his body. If he wanted to do so much more for England, and for the Reformation, he needed to sit tight, and listen to all of the false accusation they were going to make against a fine Lady he had helped and served proudly.

* * *

**May 13****th****.**

**Croydon.**

**--**

It was Nicholas Carew's House where he and Jane met. They were happily walking together in his garden. He voiced no protest over the King having a hunting party, but Jane did. The King of England was surprised that his sweetheart voiced protest, as she was always passive and sweet talking to him. But out of the corner of his eye, sensing anger, she carefully told him it was because of his _condition_, she was afraid he would get hurt again and that alone would leave her heart aching for his soul.

The King agreed, finally overtaken by her love and sweetness. He could not bare to tare up her weak heart over him, so they instead walked, and talked in relative peace, while on the other side of his Country, from the wife he had rejected –she lay in desperate need of help, she and her family were close to nothing now, but Henry did not matter, he had his Aphrodite and perfect woman just in front of him.

Everything else as he kissed her did not matter.

--

It was now true to Anne, how the King's heart dictated more of his conscience than his logic. It had become amazingly conveniently to be disposed of Anne. Her formal rival's advice that she would one day be as disposable as a noble woman born of Imperial lineage, could not be truer.

The King who on April the 24th had signed a commission to investigate the Queen and allow his Vice-Regent and Secretary in Spiritual matters to handle the case, felt somehow remorse for his old wife Isabella and their daughter. If he could remarry again,

--

The trial had ended, her old love Henry Percy had said the word _"guilty"_ among the jurors was also included Giles Heron, Cecilia Heron's husband and close friend to Elizabeth Dauncey-More, the mother of her husband's latest bastard.

Thomas Fitzroy had come to Court before she was arrested; she was disgusted to see her beautiful girl making dances in front of him, trying to catch his attention. He a low servant of a wench, a true fish wife, and she born of royalty through her mother's side, of hardworking people through her father's, her daughter's lineage was nothing to be ashamed of, so she asked herself: was it her daughter's innocence that made her dance and show off for approval in front of little Fitzroy's place? Or, was it pity that moved that moved her towards him?

Master Kingston visited her inside the Prison cell. Curious that these were once her lodging of stay when she was first led in her procession through London to become the new Queen of England.

The "May Queen" they had named her, and she had welcomed their joys and sorrows into her heart, accepting every subject, from the yeomen to the nobles into her service. Henry had been so happy as well, reaching out to his fellow English men.

Anne confessed to Cranmer earlier that day, that she was true maid when she came to the King, and that God might be the only one who judged her, she committed no treason but giving herself fully to the people, which she knew was against protocol, but the King never made any argument against. Cranmer of Canterbury had asked her if there was anything else, _besides_ that; that she considered important to confess to him now before her ascension to heaven. Anne had dismissed him telling him to continue fighting for her daughter's rightful position, he had vowed he would never give up the fight, so would she will never give up as long as she still had an inch of fighting spirit left in her.

Strangely as Master Kingston got out of the room at the same time as Cranmer did, she thought about Sir Thomas' death, Henry's true father. He had never told anyone of the King's true secret, or hers. Why? It was in his very right to do so, but if he did, so Elizabeth would be dead with her bastard sister following her into the grave.  
Anne was grateful, a small tug of sympathy at that closed minded man that he at least had some sense not to do it. He had once irritated her immeasurably. He thought he was so superior with his daughters and their book learning; some flaunted themselves when they came to Court, by not dancing, drinking or eating anything. They were proud and strutting with pure fanaticism like their father, but she admired that in them, on some funny way she had been like them no more than one year ago when she asked the King to send Mary away from Castles and privilege if continued in her pointless crusade to fight for her mother's _rightful_ place in History, as hers in the Line of succession ahead of her daughter.

She tucked her arms.

Her brother George was dead now, executed and his head placed on a spike where she was told people spit at him like he was some wild animal, dissected and placed on exhibit.

She hated it! She cried so hard that her father had to shout at her, next door to stop. But she could not stop, she just wanted her little brother, back and safe, and her father did not bother to console her or at least show a tear, a tug of sympathy to show he had loved his children, in his own way.  
He was released on this day, and Anne looking solemnly on the window, reached out an invisible hand to his cheek, but he turned it away, just as he had ripped her apart from his life, he walked away. Strangely, his father was never like this in the past. He had once loved her and appreciated everything they, she and her brother and sister did when their _mother_ was alive.

With sudden realization, Anne vowed that her heart would never ache for any father save Christ or any son save the Lord's own. Christ may he keep her soul intact when she entered the Kingdom of heaven, for Henry would bare no remorse for his actions.

Oh Henry!

How could you do this, how did you end me up like this, can we not take all back and come to a new Renaissance like you are promising your Mistress Jane Seymour right now? Please Henry … Father come to me … and don't leave me, now, when I most need you.

_I loved you._

* * *

**May 19****th**

**Tower of London**

**Nine o' Clock: Morning.**

* * *

Nevertheless the day when it had come, she had been ready. Her execution was supposed to come days earlier, but it was delayed, making her anxious and nervous that maybe God was sparing her, that Henry had changed his mind or that maybe he didn't care about sending an expert swordsman of Calais to cut through her fine _and small neck_. He just wanted _it _over with.

Anne had not resented them, when they came to gather in front of her, seeing a former Queen who was now deemed whore, witch and perhaps worst of all –committing incest with her brother.

Charles Brandon and his son Edward, and eldest daughter Frances; were gathered with the crowd, surely, waiting the moment [as everyone else] when they could finally see their Queen die.

Several of the Londoners and English men and women present, had been persuaded to take heed of the King's new creed. His _Queen_ was no longer _Queen_, just like Isabella after death had been decreed that she had never been the King's true wife, now Cranmer once again –but this time regretting that he did- fulfilled his Master's wishes by declaring marriage to Anne null and void. So the _May_ _Queen_ on the block was not be addressed as 'Your Grace' or 'Majesty'; she was now like she had always been _Lady Anne_.

The _Lady Anne_ holding her head up high, spoke to the people who had once been her loving crowd of subject, "Good Christian people, I have come here today to die, according to the law and thus yield myself to the King's will, your Truthful Sovereign as mine, _my_ Lord. And if in my life did I offend the King in any manner or way, I know my death will atone for such offenses."

She could hear her maids from behind weeping; they were being moved by her words, as was the crowd facing her. They placed on her hair a simple coif and she took away her earring and other pieces of jewelry, save her 'B' necklace she had obtained from her father's hands on her sixteenth birthday. The last remembrance of comfort she had from her old man. "I pray," she further said. "and I beseech you to pray for the life of the King, our Sovereign and _my_ Lord, who is one of the best Princes on the face of the Earth. Who has always treated me _so_ well, wherefore I submit to death with a good will, humbly asking yours as the Lord's pardon. If anyone should take my case, please I ask you to judge kindly."

Many murmurs rumbled softly through the crowd, of sympathy, and some who were less forgiving –of pity. But they all agreed with the same feeling, that this was a regretful sight.

"Thus as I take my leave of the world, and of you, and I heartily desire all of you to pray for me."

"_We will pray for you."_

"_Bless your soul!" "Lady Anne we will"_

She heard soft whispers escape the lips of many spectators. They had all come here to look at her, expecting to tremble in fear and cry for her father and brother in arms, Jesus Christ, but she had given them none the satisfaction. She had stood tall and proud, like any good Queen of noble blood flowing through her veins will.

In that moment the people as the swordsman from Calais mouthed for her forgiveness, they all saw a woman torn up by love and her loss of many children. In that moment, they regretted their decision, those who had ever called her witch, whore or maid of Satan behind her back.

She had been one of the best Mistresses this small Isle had had, and now she was going to die for not giving the King a male son to hold his Dynasty and Tudor name.

What was a Tudor name, but more of nest of snakes devouring others goodness and taking away their freedom and justice from the people.

"Jesus have mercy on my soul. Jesus please have mercy on my soul. Oh Jesus have mercy on my soul."

She glanced back again to her crowd of mourners, not able to stop looking. Closing her eyes and pretending this was all a dream, a bad dream with her father finding she was hiding under her bed, would not work. She could no longer find any other comfort, truly devoting to dying she had given herself fully to the Lord's wisdom and care.

Kneeling, she could hear the soft music of the wind, carrying away the words of the English, a soft breeze that touched her cheek made her lift her head up and she saw a raven, a crow. Lifting its wings the majestic black bird flew away into heavens to freedom. The eyes of Edward Brandon and Frances came to rest on the Queen's pupils whose eyes told a complex story of love, betrayal, revenge and … sorrow.

The hour was finally approached, no delay she felt another breeze. This was warm against the cool one she had felt earlier at seeing the bird flow away to freedom, this was releasing her.

She barely heard the words spoken by the constable Kingston, or the swordsman behind her; her head with self confidence of an assured Queen looked up above. The final dignity and grace that she had beheld were gone.

She felt at last free as hot wind rushed through her body, starting within the middle of her neck, then she knew no more. The world she knew flew apart; she was no longer part of.

* * *

**[May 19th.]**

**12:00 PM**

* * *

"**Make way. Make way …"** The King's chamberlain called amongst the gathering crowd of servants.

They were all gathered around the King, as they put the silver tray in front of him, waiting for his praise and admiration. But they would be disappointed, his last praise and admiration for somebody had ended up tearing his heart and mind, no longer had he said, would anyone get one.

A servant on orders of His Majesty immediately lifted the silver cover. A magnificent sight was caught on the King's eyes!

The music of the servants' applauds –and the Chamberlain- echoed throughout his Chamber. His Grace was pleased with the cook and with his servants, but he never said thankyou. He would not downgrade himself lower than what he already had with three people, one whom pretended to love him and in the end, forced him to send her to Hades. The others, two people whom he had loved and devoted his life to, to in the end be betrayed, he took care of them too, but unlike with the first two that came to his mind, he never lifted up a finger against her.

Henry pleased with the banquet took one more second to admire the sight. A beautiful swan, pure and white covered a delicious pie and bread, made just for him at his request.  
He tore up the Swan's wings and gave them away, then as soon as he did the head fell, finally leaving no space –he thrust his hand through the pie, at the center reaching out for the dripping red liquid and gravy to touch his lips.

Henry continued to devour the pie, and giving away more of the white swan's pieces to his servants to throw away, or do with them as he pleased, until he devoured the pie he kept dripping up his fingers in more gravy and soon all of them were stained with red.

--

_"Now we're all sons of bitches."..." Now we are all sons of bitches." _–**Sarah Connor:** _**Monologue **_**(**_**Character**_**)**, _**Sarah Connor Chronicles**_ **(**_2008_**)**

* * *

_**A/N: **A lot of thank yous and hugs, to all of my friends and authors on who reviewed and helped me stay strong with your reviews, thanks to aestheticnarcissit for your help on chapters 18-19, and for your encouragement and strong fem attitude, read her new fic on twilight section, cool crossover of twilight and Tudors! Thanks again Amiga *hugs and high five, but what if I miss, the runs before she kicks my hide: P Just kidding* You wont be disappointed. Regan X *hugs*:) Amiga Ninia Girl you were the first one to review and show support for Treason by Parentage Part I, and she has helped me through chapter 24-26, and also on chap 15. She had been a great support and her son addition to the end of TBP part I was thanks to her. PTNE: DeadMan'sTale :)thanks for your last chapter help, Thankyou these are for you girls! Kisses LadyJax999 thanks so much for your help with pain to no end, with a future character that also Regan has helped too, mua my friend, read her story unexpected love is great! Ladyredvelvet oh my God! Girl hugs to you too! I enjoyed working with you on triad dragons developing the character Marion ravenwood. Read her story triad dragon:) and savage queen. :) BoleynofAragon 21 friend thanks for helping me with some elements of snowwhite, and girl I hope you do come back to fanfiction kudos. Boleyn girl13 read her story King Arthur II. It rocks :) and thanks for your support too. Lemondropseverus :) thanks too and read her story the queen and kahuna sama thankyou girl! Your support has helped me too. _

_TBPIII will not be updated until March 20th. One chapter, per day, as of now snow white will end too, pain to no end today as well, and tudor's cukoos until I am at the middle will I post something new, a posted challenge on what ifs forum by reganx -the admin. My challenge you can see there if u are interested or others like aesthetic and regan who has goones ones too, also ladyjax._

_It was hard doing this for me as mentioned but I enjoyed the challenge however at this challenge I impressed myself but I nearly cried when writing about her death, and how it is not really a death, but a plight for hope for her daughter. She really loved elizabeth, now I realize that more than ever that I go through her head, as Katherine! And Henry oh my, well guys also she is now free, the crow simbolizes her plight to freedom, she willingly talks nobler about the King for him that he harbors no ill wish to their daughter._

_R/R :)_

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A/N:


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